DELIVERED  IN  THE  PAYILION 


*AGTONi^ 


SAMP  GROUND 


ACTON,  IND 


NDEK    THE   Al'SPlCES  OF  THE 


CAMP-IEETIM  ASSOCIATION, 


Return  this  book  on  or  before  the 
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ASTON  LE0TURES 

1881.      AUG  3  0  1234 


U^;!VERSiTY  OF  ILLINOIS 


LE0TURES  AND  SERMONS 


DELIVERED  IN  THE  PAVILION 


AT 


Acton  Camp  Ground, 

ACTON,  INDIANA, 

^TJO-TJST  1st  to  IOth.  1881, 


I'NOER  THE  Al'SPICKS  OF  THK 


CAMP-MEETING  ASSOCIATION 


PUBLISHED  BY 

GEO.  L.  CURTISS.  J.  B.  CONNER,  LEE  PITTISON,  WILL  CUMBICK, 

Committee  kok  the 
Acton  Camp-Meeting  Association. 


INDIANAPOLIS: 
Central  Printing  Company,  Printers  and  Binders, 

34  east  market  street. 

1881. 


2.  o2 


TO  THE  PUBLIC. 


At  a  called  meeting  of  the  Acton  Caaip-Meeting  Association, 
held  August,  1880,  it  was  agreed  that  ten  days  of  the  Annual 
Camp-Meeting  for  1881  should  be  devoted  to  a  series  of  scientific, 
literary  and  philosophical  lectures,  and  discussions  on  subjects  of 
interest  and  profit  to  all  who  might  attend.  This  proposition  was  sug- 
gested and  heartily  advocated  by  Col.  Cumback,  of  Greensburg,  and 
a  number  of  other  members  of  the  Association,  who  saw  in  this  move- 
ment a  means  for  elevating  the  public  taste,  cultivate  habits  of  careful 
study,  and  meeting  the  wants  of  many  young  men  and  women  who 
are  inquiring  after  knowledge.  A  judicious  committee,  consisting  of 
Col.  Cumback,  J.  K.  Pye,  F.  C.  Holliday,  R.  Andrus  and  J.  G. 
Chafee,  were  appointed  to  prepare  a  programme  and  secure  lecturers, 
and  see  to  the  general  execution  of  the  plan. 

This  committee,  after  careful  thought,  engaged  a  number  of  com- 
petent men  and  women  to  appear  on  the  rostrum,  and  deliver  suitable 
lectures  and  sermons.  Most  of  those  so  engaged  met  their  engage- 
ments in  a  highly  satisfactory  manner.  The  greater  part  of  the  lec- 
tures and  sermons  were  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  committee  for  pub- 
lication. It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  others  were  not  also  presented. 
Those  not  published  were  equal  in  merit  to  those  published. 

The  good  already  accomplished  by  this  lecture  course  can  not  be 
estimated-  It  has  quickened  thought,  stimulated  desire  to  know  more 
of  the  hidden  things  of  nature,  and  confirmed  all  in  the  belief  that 
science  and  religion  are  not  antagonistic,  and  that  the  author  of  Na- 
ture's book  and  the  Bible  is  the  same  person. 

As  arrangements  are  being  made  to  continue  this  course  from  year 
to  year,  all  lovers  of  the  true  and  the  good  can  not  but  bid  it  God's 
speed. 

May  this  book  find  a  hearty  welcome  among  all  its  readers. 

GEO.  L.  CURTISS, 


HISTORY 

OF  THE 

Acton  Camp-Meeting  Association 


In  the  Spring  of  1859,  the  subject  of  a  Camp-Meeting,  to  be  held 
somewhere  contiguous  to  the  city  of  Indianapolis,  was  agitated.  A 
meeting  of  those  interested  in  such  an  enterprise  was  called,  and  met 
in  a  grove  near  London,  Shelby  county,  Indiana,  June  16,  1859.  The 
meeting  was  called  to  order  by  Rev.  John  A.  Brouse,  and  Rev.  F.  C. 
Holliday  was  chosen  President,  and  Rev.  R.  M.  Barnes,  Secretary. 
There  were  present  six  ministers  and  eight  laymen.  At  this  meeting  it 
was  resolved  to  form  a  Camp-Meeting  Association,  purchase  lands,  and 
enter  at  once  upon  the  prosecution  of  the  work.  A  Committee  on 
Constitution  and  Articles  of  Association  was  appointed,  consisting  of 
J.  A.  Brouse,  C.  W.  Miller  and  F.  A.  Hester.  A  committee,  consist- 
ing of  Bros.  Bran  ton,  of  Southport,  Wm.  Hacker,  of  Shelby  ville,  A. 
House,  of  London,  T.  Tull  and  S.  Worth,  of  Indianapolis,  were 
appointed  to  locate  grounds  for  the  Association. 

The  second  meeting  was  held  June  23,  1859,  with  twenty-four 
persons  present,  representing  Robert's  Chapel  and  Asbury  in  Indian- 
apolis. Southport,  London  and  Palestine  Circuits,  and  Shelbyville 
Station.  The  Association  received  the  report  of  the  committee  on 
location,  and  determined  to  purchase  twenty  acres  of  a  forty  acre  lot 
belonging  to  Rev.  J.  V.  R.  Miller,  adjoining  Farmersville,  now  Acton, 
at  $35  per  acre.  At  a  later  date  the  entire  lot  of  forty  acres  was 
purchased  by  the  Association,  and  is  still  used  for  Camp-Meeting 
purppses. 

The  objects  of  the  Association  were  set  forth  in  the  ist  and  2d 
articles  of  the  constitution,  to-wit : 

"  This  association  shall  be  denominated  the  Indianapolis  Dis- 
trict Camp-Meeting  Association  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church." 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


5. 


"  The  object  of  this  association  shall  be  to  purchase,  improve  and 
hold  a  tract  of  land  in  the  vicinity  of  Acton,  for  camp-meeting  pur- 
poses, Sunday  school  celebrations,  and  other  meetings  of  a  strictly  mor- 
al and  religious  character.  " 

The  articles  provided  that  "  the  members  of  the  association  shall 
be  the  tent-holders,  the  pastors  (including  the  presiding  elders, Uhe 
preachers  in  charge,  and  the  assistant  preachers)  of  the  several  charges 
represented,  and  of  all  other  members  of  the  church  who  shall  sign 
this  constitution.*' 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  organizers  of  this  enterprise  intended  that 
it  should  be  a  Methodist  camp-meeting,  controlled  by  Methodists 
alone. 

The  officers  elected  under  this  constitution  were .  F.  C.  Holliday, 
President,  Wm.  Hacker,  Vice-President,  A.  Worth,  Treasurer,  J.  J. 
Dumont,  Secretary. 

At  the  meeting  of  the  association,  held  on  the  camp  ground  July 
14,  1859,  Alexander  Worth,  Wm.  Hannaman,  James  Brenton,  Thos. 
Wray  and  Wm.  Hacker  were  elected  trustees  for  the  ensuing  year. 

The  committee  previously  appointed  to  solicit  subscriptions 
reported,  cash  and  subscription  for  purchasing  and  improving  the 
camp  ground,  to  the  amount  of  $860.00.  At  this  time  it  was  determ- 
ined to  hold  the  first  camp-meeting  commencing  August  29,  1859,  and 
the  trustees  were  authorized  to  complete  the  purchase  of  the  grounds, 
and  prepare  for  the  coming  meeting. 

The  trustees  immediately  put  forth  great  efforts  to  have  the 
grounds  in  suitable  condition  for  the  meeting  in  August.  They  accom- 
plished this  work  well.  August  29  came,  and  with  it  a  respectable 
number  of  tent-holders,  who  entered  with  zeal  upon  the  spiritual  work 
of  the  meeting.  This  was  the  first  of  a  series  of  annual  gatherings, 
only  interrupted  three  times  up  to  the  present. 

Subscriptions  were  solicited  and  collections  taken  for  the  camp- 
meeting  association,  which,  at  the  close  of  the  meeting,  an^ounted  to 
$1,050,  while  the  outlay  had  been  $1,500. 

The  association  met  at  the  camp  ground  April  24,  i860.  The 
second  camp-meeting  was  ordered  to  begin  August  16,  and  hold  over 
two  Sabbaths,  "if  the  interest  justified."  Friday  preceding  the  camp- 
meeting  was  recommended  as  a  day  for  fasting  and  prayer  for  ' '  the 
outpouring  of  the  Holy  Spirit  upon  the  meeting."  The  Association 
adjourned  until  July  16,  i860,  when  the  following  were  elected  offi- 
cers for  the  year:  F.  C.  Holliday,  President,  W.  M.  Moore,  Vice- 
President,  J.  A.  Brouse,  Secretary,  A.  Worth,  Treasurer. 


6 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


The  election  of  trustees  was  deferred.  The  trustees  were  author- 
ized to  employ  two  policemen  to  serve  during  camp-meeting,  to  aid  in 
preserving  order. 

•  Originally  the  control  of  the  camp-meeting  while  in  operation 
was  placed  in  the  hands  "of  the  presiding  elder  of  the  district  within 
which  the  camp-ground  shall  be  situated,  provided  that  the  presiding 
elder  may  authorize  any  other  itinerant  preacher  of  the  M.  E.  church 
to  take  charge  of  the  meeting,"  but  at  this  session  it  was  placed  in  the 
control  of  a  committee  of  four  ministers  and  three  laymen,  all  mem- 
bers of  the  M.  E.  Church,  of  whom  the  presiding  elder  was  chairman. 
This  method  of  conducting  the  meeting  proved  defective  and  unsatis- 
factory, and  in  1863  was  abandoned  and  the  old  plan  adopted. 

Camp-meeting  commenced  August  16,  i860,  with  a  fair  attend- 
ance. The  committee  of  control  did  not  succeed  as  admirably  as  its 
friejids  and  supporters  hoped.  It  was  found  that  one  head  was  better 
than  seven  in  such  a  place  as  this. 

At  the  business  meeting  held  August  20,  the  Treasurer's  report 
showed  that  he  had  e.xpended  -"Si, 972. 12,  being  S22.64  more  than  his 
receipts. 

A  proposition  was  made  to  invite  the  German  Methodists  to  unite 
in  the  camp-meeting,  but  they  declined. 

The  association  met  June  14,  1861,  and  elected  its  officers,  to-wit : 
T.  H.  Lynch,  President,  J.  W.  Mellender,  Vice-President,  J.  A. 
Brouse,  Secretary,  A.  Worth,  Treasurer,  and  Thos.  Wray,  Wm.  Han- 
naman,  Wm.  Moore,  Wm.  Grosser  and  A.  Worth,  Trustees. 

The  camp-meeting  commenced  August  1.5,  1861,  and  continued 
over  two  Sabbaths.  Although  it  was  amid  the  mutterings  of  the  slave- 
holder's rebellion,  it  proved  a  glorious  success.  About  fifty  souls 
were  reported  converted,  and  the  church  much  blessed.  The  tents 
were  all  occupied.  Large  congregations  were  present  on  week  days. 
Good  order  prevailed  during  all  the  meetings.  Collections  were  taken 
for  the  benefit  of  the  association,  amounting  to  S107.00. 

During  this  camp-meeting  Bishops  Ames  and  Scott,  Drs.  Kingsley 
and  Bowman,  afterwards  bishops,  and  Drs.  E.  G.  Wood  and  Locke, 
Revs.  Beharrell,  Falkenburg  and  Heath,  were  present,  and.did  effective 
preaching.  The  first  Sabbath  Father  Havens,  Bishops  Ames  and  Scott 
and  Dr.  Kingsley  preached.  Their  sermons  were  strong  presentations 
of  the  truth  of  God,  and  many  felt  the  power  of  the  truth. 

The  annual  meeting  for  1862  occurred  July  14.  The  officers 
elected  were:  T.  H.  Lynch,  President,  J.  W.  Mellender,  Vice-Presi- 
dent, J.  A.  Brouse,  Secretary,  A.  Worth,  Treasurer,  and  Wm.  Han- 
naman,  Thos.  Wray,  William  Grosser,  A.  Worth  and  Wm.,  Moore, 
Trustees. 


T 


ACTON   LECTURES.  7 

At  this  session  a  sermon  was  preached  by  James  Havens.  This 
was  followed  with  speeches  b}'  Judge  McDonald  and  Wm.  Wallace  on 
the  state  of  the  country. 

The  country  being  auich  disturbed  by  war,  the  camp-meeting  was 
not  as  great  a  success  as  it  had  been  in  previous  years. 

May  26,  1863,  the  association  met  and  determined  to  hold  the 
camp-meeting  commencing  August  13,  1863.  It  had  become  neces- 
sary to  rebuild  some  tents,  especially  the  preacher's  tent,  the 
preacher's  tent  and  pavilion  having  been  burned.  The  railroad  com- 
pany for  the  first  time  appear  officially  concerned  in  the  camp-meeting. 
It  seems  they  had  made  a  proposition  to  give  $100  towards  repair- 
ing tents,  which  the  association  accepted.  Through  the  Treasurer,  A. 
Worth,  who  was  also  Secretary  and  Treasurer  of  the  I.,  C.  &  L.  R.  R., 
there  had  been  a  good  deal  of  unofficial  connection,  but  this  was  the 
first  official  recognition  of  a  connection. 

Treasurer  Worth  reported. having  received  of  the  I.,  C.  &  L.  R. 
R.  Co.  a  collection  on  tickets  of  $253.35.  There  was  a  verbal  con- 
tract that  the  company  should  pay  the  association  some  amount,  and  Bro. 
Worth  added  10  cents  to  the  price  of  railroad  tickets,  and  gave  the  sur- 
plus to  the  association.  This  grew  into  a  custom,  and  the  association 
received  the  money  thus  offered  until  1881,  when  it  resolved  that  it 
would  not  receive  the  10  cents  on  each  ticket  sold  and  used  on 
Sunday. 

Officers  were  not  elected  until  a  called  meeting  July  9,  1863, 
when  there  were  elected  :  E.  G.  Wood,  D.  D.,  President,  F.  C.  Hol- 
Hday,  D.  D.,  Vice-President,  R.  Roberts,  Secretary,  A.  Worth,  Treas- 
urer, and  Wm.  Hannaman,  Thos.  Wray,  S.  Stewart,  Wm.  Grosser  and 
A.  Worth,  Trustees. 

The  fifth  camp-meeting  was  held  commencing  August  13,  con- 
tinuing over  two  Sabbaths.  During  this  meeting  there  was  considera- 
ble disturbance  from  ungodly  roughs,  which  caused  uneasiness  and  a 
sense  of  insecurity  among  the  tent  holders,  and  led  the  Trustees  to 
take  summary  means  for  safety.  It  was  again  demonstrated  that 
when  the  sons  of  God  came  together,  satan  came  also. 

The  year  1864  was  a  disasterous  one  to  this  association.  Several 
regiments  of  troops  from  Marion  and  Shelby  counties  had  been  hur- 
ried into  the  field,  and  met  with  a  disasterous  defeat  at  Cumberland 
Ford,  and  many  were  wounded.  The  officers  of  the  Camp-Meeting 
Association  tendered  the  use  of  the  Acton  Camp  Grounds,  to  Govern- 
or Morton  for  hospital  purposes,  especially  for  these  regiments.  This 
so  enraged  the  enemies  of  the  county  that  the  entire  encampment  was 
burned,  and  the  trees  destroyed  by  the  intense  heat,  on  the  14th  of 


s 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


August,  1864.  rhe  tents  and  pavilion  were  insured  to  the  amount  of 
$855.00. 

When  the  Association  met  in  June,  1864,  they  were  unable  to 
arrange  for  a  camp-meeting  that  year,  and  devised  ways  and  means 
for  planting  out  shade  trees  to  take  the  place  of  those  destroyed  by  fire. 

So,  because  of  misfortune,  1864  passed  without  a  camp-meetmg. 

The  Association  met  June  7,  1865,  at  the  grounds,  to  take  into 
consideration  the  rebuilding,  and  re-occupancy  of  the  grounds.  'I'he 
grounds  were  carefully  examined  and  a  suitable  place  determined  u]> 
on  for  a  new  encampment.  The  Association  ordered  the  purchase  of 
canvas  tents  in  place  of  board  tents.  It  was  hoped  thereby  to  be  able 
to  prevent  another  disaster  by  fire.  The  canvas  tents  could  not  be  se- 
cured in  time  for  the  camp-meeting,  so  the  year  1865  passed  without 
a  meeting. 

There  was  not  held  any  further  meeting  of  the  Association  until 
August  28,  1866. 

During  the  summer  of  1866,  Mr.  Hannaman  and  the  treasurer, 
A.  Worth,  had  purchased  army  tents  to  the  amount  of  $600.00,  which 
were  erected  on  the  grounds,  together  with  a  shed  for  a  pavilion.  The 
camjj-meeting  commenced  xVugust  15,  1866,  and  held  over  two  Sab- 
baths, proving  to  be  a  good  and  profitable  occasion. 

The  Association  met  July  9,  1867,  I^^^'-  }•  ^-  i-athroj).  Presiding 
Elder,  being  President.  .Arrangements  were  made  to  hold  the  camp- 
meeting  in  August.  The  meeting  consequently  commnnced  August 
17,  proving  to  be  one  of  usual  interest.  There  were  again  some  roughs 
and  ungodly  characters,  who  sought  to  do  mischief  and  terrify  people, 
but  these  were  brought  under  control  by  the  power  of  law. 

The  Association  met  July  9,  1868,  with  sixty  persons  present.  Dr. 
Holliday  preached  a  sermon  on  Ez.  xxxiv,  25  and  26.  "And  I 
will  make  them  a  covenant  of  peace,  and  will  cause  the  evil  beast  to 
cease  out  of  the  land;  and  they  shall  dwell  safely  in  the  wilderness, 
and  sleep  in  the  woods,  and  1  will  make  them  and  the  places  round 
about  my  hill  a  blessing:  and  1  will  cause  the  shower  to  come  down 
in  his  season;  then  shall  be  showers  of  blessings. " 

The  association  elected  officers:  Dr.  F.  C.  Holliday,  President, 
J.  H.  Lozier,  Secretary,  A.  Worth,  Treasurer,  and  Wm.  M.  Parish, 
A.  Worth,  A.  May,  G.  H.  McLaughlin  and  P.  R.  Stage,  Trustees. 

The  camp-meeting  was  held,  commencing  August  13,  1868. 

June  20,  1869,  the  association  met  to  hold  the  annual  business 
meeting.  The  association  by  a  large  vote  resolved,  "That  it  is  the 
sense  of  this  association,  that  it  is  improper  to  run  railroad  trains  on, 
the  Sabbath." 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


9 


Camp-meeting  commenced  August  ii,  1869,  and  held  two  weeks. 

At  a  meeting  held  August  18,  1869,  the  following  officers  were 
elected:  R.  D.  Robinson,  President,  S.  T.  Gillett,  Secretary,  A. 
Worth,  Treasurer,  and  W.  H.  R.  Reed,  A.  Worth,  Sidney  Robinson, 
Omer  1  ousey,  and  P.  R.  Stage,  Trustees. 

There  having  been  rioting  of  roughs  at  a  former  camp-meeting,  a 
committee  of  three,  consisting  of  J.  H.  Lozier,  S.  T.  Gillett  and  Fred. 
Baggs  was  appointed  to  prosecute  them. 

They  succeeded  in  vindicating  the  rights  of  the  association,  and 
bringing  the  disturbers  to  justice.  Money  was  ordered  to  be  paid  by 
the  treasurer  for  this  prosecution. 

The  tenth  camp-meeting  on  Acton  Camp  Grounds,  was  held  com- 
mencing August  10,  1870,  under  the  direction  of  Rev.  R.  D.  Robinson. 

During  the  progress  of  the  camp-meeting,  a  business  meeting  was 
held,  where,  after  earnest  prayer  for  Divine  Guidance,  the  following 
l)reamble  and  resolution  was  adopted. 

"Whereas.  God  hath  commanded  us  to  remember  the  Sabbbath 
day  to  keep  it  holy,  and 

"Whereas,  The  running  of  trains  to  and  from  the  camp  ground 
on  the  Sabbath  day,  is  not  only  a  clear  violation  of  (iod's  command- 
ment, but  is  also  productive  of  much  evil  influence  in  every  commu- 
nity reached  by  these  Sunday  trains;  therefore, 

"■Resolved,  That  a  committee  of  four  from  each  charge  re|)resented 
in  this  association  be  appointed  to  prepare  and  submit  a  plan,  whereby 
all  funds  necessary  for  the  use  of  this  association,  may  be  secured 
without  any  partnership  on  the  part  of  this  association,  in  the  proceeds 
of  rJlroad  trains  run  on  the  Sabbath  day,  to  the  business  meeting 
to  be  held  in  May  next,  and  also  an  estimate  of  the  cost  of  a  fence  to 
enclose  these  grounds,  or  so  much  of  them  as  may  be  necessary,  and 
that  said  committee  be  authorized  to  submit  to  said  business  meeting, 
a  plan  for  securing  such  funds  as  may  be  required  for  the  construction 
of  said  enclosure.  "' 

So  much  was  the  camp-meeting  disturbed  by  the  discussion  on 
this  and  kindred  subjects,  that  the  associadon  passed  a  by-law,  that 
hereafter  all  such  questions  should  be  presented  at  the  annual  meeting. 
Bro.  A.  Worth  tendered  his  resignation  as  Trustee  and  Treasurer,  to 
take  effect  at  the  annual  meeting  in  May.  Dr.  Merrill,  now  Bishop, 
delivered  on  the  Camp  Ground  a  most  powerful  sermon  on  the  char- 
acter of  Future  Punishment. 

At  the  meeting  of  the  association  May  13,  1871,  the  committee 
on  ways  and  means  for  getting  out  of  debt,  presented  their  report. 
They  recommended  the  appointment  of  a  committee  to  make  such  ; 


lO 


ACiON  LECTURES. 


rangements  with  the  railroad,  as  may  result  in  participation  by  the  as- 
sociation with  the  road,  in  the  fores  of  persons  attending  the  camp- 
meeting,  provided  no  trains  he  run  on  the  Sabbath. 

Alexander  Worth,  after  long  and  faithful  service  as  a  Trustee  and 
Treasurer,  having  previously  resigned  his  offices,  retired  from  connec- 
tion with  the  Cam])-Meeting  Association. 

The  association  at  a  meeting  held  August  9,  187 1,  determined 
to  consider  the  feasil)ility  of  enlarging  the  design  of  the  camp-meeting, 
so  as  to  make  it  a  state  instead  of  a  district  association.  The  subject 
caused  considerable  discussion,  and  finally  a  committee  of  fifteen  were 
appointed  to  thoroughly  canvass  the  subject.  This  was  done,  and  the 
next  year  they  reported  adversely,  and  there  the  niatter  ended. 

The  officers  elected  were:  R.  I).  Robinson,  President,  J.  H.  Lo- 
zier.  Secretary,  Omer  'i'ousey,  'I'reasurer.  and  Omer  Tousey,  1.  J. 
Armstrong,  R.  T.  Wharton.  John  T..  Miller  and  N.  N.  vShipman, 
Trustees. 

'I'he  religious  services  of  the  camp-meeting  commenced  August 
15,  and  lasted  over  two  Sabl)aths.  In  many  respects  the  meeting  was 
one  of  success.  In  attendance  it  exceeded  anything  ever  held,  and 
was  productive  of  good.  On  the  last  day  of  the  camp-meeting,  Aug- 
ust 25,  the  committee  appointed  to  confer  with  the  .ailroad  reported 
that  the  officers  of  the  railroad  would  hereafter  insist  upon  running 
Sunday  trains  to  and  from  the  camp  ground. 

August  I,  1872,  the  association  elected  Omer  Tousey,  Thos. 
Wray,  I.  G.  Armstrong,  John  W.  Ray  and  Jacob  Jamison  as  Trus- 
tees. For  two  years  the  question  had  been  agitated  of  selling  the 
camp  grounds  and  investing  elsewhere.  x"\uthority  to  sell  had  been 
given.  But  at  this  time  this  authority  was  rescinded.  7  he  camp- 
meeting  commenced  August,  1872,  and  was  fairly  attended,  and  with 
moderate  success.  The  discussions  of  former  times  detracted  from 
the  spiritual  interests  of  the  meeting. 

The  association  met  May,  1873.  An  invitation,  through  a  com- 
mittee, was  given  to  the  National  Camp-Meeting  Association  to  hold 
its  session  for  1874.  on  the  Acton  grounds,  in  hopes  that  the  spiritual 
interests  of  the  association  might  be  quickened. 

In  1873  the  association  entered  into  a  solemn  contract  with  the  I., 
C.  cSr  I..  R.  R.,  to  be  in  force  for  twenty  years,  as  follows: 

"  For  the  purpose  of  making  a  permanent  arrangement  between 
the  Indianapolis  District  Camp-Meeting  Association  of  the  South-East 
Indiana  Conference  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  and  the 
IndianapoHs,  Cincinnati  &  Lafayette  Railroad  Company,  in  regard  to 
the  running  of  trains  to  and  from  the  camp  ground,  as  also  for  the  con- 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


veyance  and  accommodation  of  the  members  of  said  association,  and 
visitors  to  the  camp-meetings,  the  following  rules  have  been  adopted : 

1.  No  excursion  trains  whatever  will  be  run  to  and  from  the 
camp  ground  on  Sundays. 

2.  The  company  are  to  place  on  sale  at  the  different  stations  on 
their  road  what  are  known  as  ''return  tickets,'"  and  to  furnish  to  all 
proper  persons  desiring  to  attend  camp-meeting  such  tickets  at  a  tixed 
price,  not  to  exceed  the  price  heretofore  charged,  such  tickets  to  be 
good  on  any  trains  designated  by  the  superintendent  of  said  road, 
passing  over  the  road  l)etween  the  office  where  sold  and  the  camp 
ground,  to  go  and  return. 

3.  All  accommodation  passenger  trains  are  to  stop  at  the  camp 
grounds  during  the  continuance  of  the  meeting. 

4.  The  company  will  have  on  the  camp  ground,  during  camp- 
meeting  occasions,  and  furnish  to  one  person  from  each  tamily  of  tent 
holders,  who  shall  have  procured  a  return  ticket  as  aforesaid,  a  free 
pass  that  will  enable  such  person,  during  the  continuance  of  the  camp- 
meeting,  to  go  to  his  or  her  home  and  return  with  provisions  and 
other  necessaries  for  the  use  of  his  or  her  family,  but  for  no  other 
purpose. 

5.  I'he  company  will  carry  to  and  from  the  camp  ground,  on 
any  camp-meeting  occasion,  free  of  charge,  and  without  unnecessary 
delay,  all  cooking  utensils,  bedding,  baggage,  provisions,  etc.,  that 
may  be  required  ])y  the  tent-holders  for  their  comfort  and  convenience. 

6.  Such  light  baggage,  bundles,  provisions  or  other  packages  as 
is  usually  carried  on  passenger  trains,  may  be  carried  to  and  from  the 
camp  ground  with  a  passenger  on  such  train.  ' 

7.  The  company  will  allow^  to  the  association  a  royalty  of  ten 
cents  on  each  camp-meeting  ticket  sold. 

8.  The  company  will  co-operate  with  the  association  so  as  to 
prevent,  as  far  as  possible,  any  and  all  persons  from  taking  intoxicat- 
ing liquors  to  the  camp  ground  at  any  time,  and  the  company  will  not 
knowingly  carry  im])roper  persons  to  the  camp  ground. 

9.  The  company  will  furnish  free  passes  to  the  members  of  the 
camp-meeting  committee  to  attend  the  annual  meeting  of  the  commit- 
tee at  the  camp  ground. 

ID.  In  consideration  of  the  above  the  association  grants  unto  the 
company  the  free  use  of  their  camp  ground  and  pavilion  for  Sunday 
school  picnics  and  all  other  moral  gatherings.  The  company  to  allow 
the  association  ten  per  cent,  of  the  gross  earnings  of  all  excursion 
trains  when  such  trains  are  chartered  by  the  car. 


12 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


II.  This  agreement  shall  continue  and  be  in  force,  unless  mutu- 
ally rescinded,  for  a  period  of  twenty  years  from  date. 

Indianapolis,  Cincinnati  &  Lafayette  R.  R.  Co., 
By  M.  E.  Ingalls,  Pres't. 
F.  C.  Wo\AAV)k^ ^  President  of  Assoc iaiion. 
J.  H.  Bayliss,  Sec7'etary  pro  tern. 
Indianapolis,  Ind.,  August  i,  1S73. 

During  the  camp-meeting  of  1873  the  contract  was  fully  complied 
with,  and  no  trains  were  run  to  the  camp-meeting  on  the  Holy  Sab- 
bath. Since  that  year  the  trains  have  been  run,  and  the  agreement  in 
that  particular  been  wholly  ignored. 

May,  1874,  the  association  met  on  the  grounds.  Ur.  F.  C.  Hol- 
liday  was  elected  President,  Geo.  P.  Jenkins,  Vice-President,  J.  B. 
Lathrop,  Secretary,  Omer  Tousey,  Treasurer,  and  J.  M.  W.  Langsdale, 
J.  P.  Dunn,  Omer  Tousey,  Sim.  J.  Thompson  and  W.  H.  R.  Reed, 
Trustees. 

After  carefully  viewing  the  grounds,  which  had  been  greatly 
injured  by  indiscriminately  cutting  down  the  timber,  the  invitation 
extended  to  the  National  Camp-Meeting  Association  was  recalled.  It 
was  determined,  however,  to  hold  a  District  Camp-Meeting,  beginnhig 
August  II,  1874. 

The  Camp-Meeting  Association  met  May  15,  1877,  and  elected 
T.  FI.  Lynch,  President,  J.  W.  Mellender,  Vice-President,  ].  S.  Tevis, 
Secretary,  W.  H.  R.  Reed,  Treasurer,  and  F.  C.  Holliday,  J.  M.  W. 
Langsdale,  L.  W.  Knobe,  J.  M.  Clark  and  M.  C.  Dawson,  as  Tru.s- 
tees. 

The  control  of  all  improvements  was  placed  in  the  charge  of  \V. 
H.  R.  Reed.    Many  new  tents  were  erected,  the  boarding  tent  put  in 
,  good  order,  and  when  the  people  assembled,  August  8,   1877,  for 
^amp-meeting,  they  found  all  things  ready.    The  meetings  were  not 
f  largely  attended  during  the  week  days,  but  on  Sunday  the  throng  of 
people  was  great. 

On  the  eighth  of  May,  1868,  the  association  elected  T.  H.  Lynch, 
President,  J.  W.  Mellender,  Vice-President,  J.  S.  Tevis,  Secretary, 
W.  H.  R.  Reed,  Treasurer,  and  T.  H.  Lynch,  J.  M.  W.  Langsdale, 
L.  W.  Knobe,  J.  M.  Clark  and  M.  C.  Dawson,  Trustees.  Phe  camp- 
meeting  commenced  July  31  and  continued  over  two  Sabbaths.  Dr. 
Lynch  was  early  called  away  from  the  meeting  by  sickness,  when  J.  S. 
Tevis  took  charge  for  three  days,  and  was  succeeded  by  S.  Tincher. 
Dr.  Tincher  having  been  attacked  with  sickness,  the  charge  of  the 
meeting  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  Geo.  L.  Curtiss,  who  remained  in 
charge  to  its  close. 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


13 


The  association,  May  13,  1879,  elected  T.  H.  Lynch,  President, 
S.  Tincher,  Vice-President,  J.  S.  Tevis,  Secretary,  W.  H.  R.  Reed, 
Treasurer,  and  J.  W.  Langsdale,  L.  W.  Knobe,  F.  M.  Weeden,  J.  M. 
Clark  and  Milton  Robbins,  as  Trustees.  The  camp-meeting  was  held 
August  6,  1879.  It  was  now  resolved  that  some  Hterary  exercises 
should  be  held  in  connection,  with  the  meeting  of  r88o.  Col.  Cum- 
back  was  active  in  this  movement. 

At  the  May  meeting,  1880,  arrangements  were  completed  to 
devote  the  first  week  to  Sunday  School  and  Temperance  work,  and  to 
lectures  on  Literary  and  Scientific  subjects.  At  the  camp-meeting 
commencing  August  3,  1880,  lectures  were  delivered  by  Dr. 
Alex.  Martin,  Judge  Hagins,  of  Cincinnati,  President  White,  of  Perdue 
University,  and  the  Sunday  School  day  was  under  charge  of  Geo.  L. 
Curtiss.  The  officers  for  the  year  were :  T.  H.  Lynch,  President,  S. 
Tincher,  Vice-President,  J.  W.  Dashiell,  Secretary,  VV.  H.  R.  Reed, 
Treasurer,  and  j.  R.  Budd,  J.  M.  W.  Langsdale,  F.  M.  Weeden,  L. 
W.  Knobe  and  M.  T.  Sorden,  as  Trustees. 

The  association  met  May  10,  1881,  and  elected  J.  K.  Pye,  Presi- 
dent, Geo.  L.  Curtiss,  Vice-President,  G.  C.  Clouds,  Secretary,  W. 
H.  R.  Reed,  Treasurer,  and  J.  R.  Budd,  P.  J.  Beechbard,  J.  M.  W. 
Langsdale,  Dr.  Bracken  and  L.  W.  Knobe,  as  Trustees. 

It  was  resolved  to  spend  the  first  ten  days  in  a  lecture  course. 
The  Committee  on  Programme  was  Col.  Cumback,  F.  C.  Holliday, 
J.  K.  Pye,  R.  Andrus  and  J.  G.  Chafee. 

J.  B.  Conner  offered  the  following  resolution  by  instruction  of  the 
Quarterly  Conference  of  Central  Avenue  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 
in  Indianapolis : 

''Whereas,  This  association  disapproves  the  policy  which  has 
heretofore  prevailed,  of  so  far  sanctioning  the  running  of  Sunday 
trains  as  to  share  the  profit  of  the  same,  thus  participating,  solely  for 
gain,  in  Sunday  desecration,  therefore, 

''Resolved,  That  the  Board  of  Trustees  be,  and  the  same  is  hereby 
instructed,  to  notify  the  railroad  company  of  this  action  by  furnish- 
ing the  proper  officers  thereof  with  a  copy  hereof,  and  that  the  officers 
of  this  association  are  hereby  directed  to  decline  hereafter,  the  prof- 
fer of  any  money  accruing  from  the  running  of  Sunday  trains." 

The  resolution  was  adopted  by  a  large  vote. 

The  camp-meeting  commenced  August  i,  1881,  and  spent  ten 
days  in  hearing  literary  and  scientific  lectures,  sermons,  Sunday  school 
work  and  a  young  men's  day. 

The  grounds  and  pavilion  were  very  beautifully  illuminated  by  four 
electric  lights.    This  was  a  vast  improvement  over  the  old  time  lamps. 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


Rev.  Thos.  Harrison,  the  Evangelist,  was  present  four  days.  The 
entire  camp-meeting  was  more  than  usually  successful.  On  the  first 
Sabbath,  Prof.  John,  of  Moore's  Hill  College,  and  Dr.  Gobin,  and  Dr. 
Marine,  of  Greencastle,  preached  excellent  sermons. 

On  the  second  Sabbath,  Rev.  E.  A.  Campbell,  Dr.  J.  W.  T. 
McMuUen,  J.  V.  R.  Miller  and  Dr.  Curtiss,  preached. 

The  attendance  was  much  larger,  than  ever  before,  during  the 
week.  The  tents  now  number  one  hundred  and  forty.  The  boarding 
tent  has  been  enlarged  to  double  its  capacity.  A  baggage  and  check 
room  has  been  built,  by  means  of  which  safety  for  small  parcels  can  be 
had  for  a  trifle. 

At  the  business  meeting  held  during  the  camp-meeting,  it  was  de- 
termined to  hold  a  week  of  scientific  and  literary  work  at  the  next 
camp-meeting,  and  a  committee  was  a})pointed. 

Feeling  the  need  for  some  protection  from  fire,  the  trustees  were 
instructed  to  arrange  an  artificial  lake,  if  it  were  in  the  least  practical. 

THE  COMMITTEE. 


1 


i 


CONSTITUTION  AND  BY-LAWS 


OF  THE 

^  INDIANAPOLIS  DISTRICT 

CAMP-MEETING  ASSOCIATION 

OF  THE 

SOUTH-EAST  INDIANA  CONFERENCE 

OK  THE 

METHODIST  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH. 

Ditly  Incorporated  under  the  Laius  of  the  State  of  lndia?ia. 

The  Indianapolis  District  Camp-Meeting  Association  of  the  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church,  an  organization  already  in  existence,  for  the 
more  thorough  and  successful  furtherance  of  the  purposes  and  objects 
set  forth  in  its  original  articles  of  association,  and  acting  under  author- 
ity of  said  articles  of  association,  does  amend  and  alter  said  articles  so 
as  to  make  them  read  as  follows : 

ARTICLE  1. 

This  association  shall  be  denominated  the  Indianapolis  District 
Camp-Meeting  Association  of  the  South-East  Indiana  Con- 
ference OF  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 

ARTICLE  II. 

The  object  of  this  association  shall  be  to  purchase,  improve,  and 
hold,  a  tract  of  land  for  camp-meeting  purposes,  Sunday  school  cele- 
brations, and  other  meetings  of  a  strictly  moral  and  religious  character. 

ARTICLE  III. 

The  officers  of  this  association  shall  be  a  President,  Vice-President, 
Secretary,  and  Treasurer,  five  Trustees,  and  a  Camp-Meeting  Commit- 
tee, consisting  of  the  Presiding  Elder  of  the  district,  and  ail  the 
Preachers  in  charge  of  churches  patronizing  said  camp-meeting  by 
having  members  who  are  tent-holders,  and  every  methodist  tent-holder 


ACTON  LECTURES: 


of  said  encampment,  each  tent  having  hut  one  vote.  In  addition, 
each  patronizing  church  may  elect  one  lay  delegate,  who  shall  also  l)e 
members  of  said  committee.  The  Trustees  shall  be  ex-ofificio  mem^ 
bers  of  the  Cam)>Meeting  Committee.  The  Trustees  shall  be  elected 
annually  Ijy  the  Camp-Meeting  Committee.  The  Presiding  Elder  of 
the  Indianapolis  District  shall  be  ex-ofificio  President  of  the  association. 
The  other  officers,  except'  Trustees  and  Camp-Meeting  Committee, 
shall  be  elected  from  time  to  time  as  the  members  of  the  association 
may  direct. 

ARTICLE  IV. 

The  Camp-Meeting  Committee  shall  determine  from  year  to  year 
the  question  of  holding  a  camp-meeting,  and  shall  be  charged  with  the 
responsibility  of  arranging  for  the  same,  but  shall  have  no  authority  to 
arrange  for  the  running  of  Sunday  trains,  but  shall  use  their  utmost 
influence  and  authority  to  suppress  this  evil. 

ARTICLE  V. 

The  Camp- Meeting  Committee  shall  meet  annually  upon  the 
grounds  of  the  association,  or  at  such  place  as  a  majority  of  the  com- 
mittee may  agree  upon,  or  at  the  call  of  the  President  at  the  regular 
place  of  meeting. 

ARTICLE  YL 

The  Camp-Meeting  Committee  shall  organize  at  its  first  meeting. 
The  officers  of  the  committee  shall  be  a  President,  Vice-President, 
Secretary  and  Treasurer,  who  shall  be  elected  annually,  at  the  regular 
meeting  of  the  committee.  The  first  meeting  of  the  committee  shall 
be  called  by  the  Presiding  Elder  of  the  district  at  the  camp  ground,  in 
May  of  T 874. 

ARTICLE  VII. 

'Hie  members  of  this  association  shall  be  the  Presiding  Elder  of 
the  Indianapolis  District  of  the  South-East  Indiana  Conference, 
and  the  preachers  in  charge  and  assistant  preachers,  and  all  members 
of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  of  full  age  on  the  district.  Charges 
outside  of  Indianapolis  District  of  South-East  Indiana  Conference, 
may  secure  representation  on  the  Camp-Meeting  Committee,  and  mem- 
bership in  the  association  as  above,  provided  the  Quarterly  Conference 
by  vote  express  such  desire,  and  ajjpoint  a  member  of  the  Camp- 
Meeting  Committee,  as  provided  for  in  Article  lit  of  this  constitution- 

ARTICLE  VIII. 

The  Cam[)-Meeting,  Committee  shall  have  power  to  ordain  by-laws 
so  that  nothing  shall  be  done  contrary  to  this  constitution. 

2 


i8 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


ARTICLE  IX. 

The  Trustees  may  dispose  of  property  belonging  to  the  associa- 
tion, but  only  upon  the  following  conditions,  viz:  The  association 
shall  be  notified  by  its  President  and  Secretary  of  any  proposed  sale 
or  purchase  of  real  estate,  or  dissolution  of  its  organization,  at  least 
one  month  before  the  date  of  the  proposed  meeting  for  the  considera- 
tion of  the  subject,  and  the  President  or  Secretary  shall  call  a  meeting 
for  the  consideration  of  the  subject,  and  the  President  or  Secretary 
shall  call  a  meeting  of  the  association  to  rtct  upon  the  matter,  the 
notices  to  be  given  in  all  the  charges  represented  in  the  association. 
The  association  shall  meet  on  the  camp  ground,  and  a  majority  of 
those  present  and  voting  may  authorize  action  on  the  part  of  the 
Trustees.  In  case  of  the  purchase  of  other  property  by  the  associa- 
tion, it  shall  be  used  exclusively  for  objects  set  forth  in  this  consti- 
tution. 

ARTICLE  X. 

This  constitution  may  be  altered  by  a  two-thirds  vote  of  those 
present  and  voting  at  auy  meeting  of  the  association  called  as  provided 
for  in  Article  VIII. 


ARTICLE  I. 

The  duties  of  the  President,  Vice-President,  Secretary  and  Treas- 
urer shall  be  such  as  usually  devolve  upon  these  officers,  and  such  as 
the  association  shall  require. 

ARTICLE  II. 

Section  i.  The  Trustees  shall  hold  in  trust  for  the  benefit  and 
under  the  direction  of  the  association  all  the  property,  real  and  per- 
sonal, of  the  association. 

Sec.  2.  They  may  make  fences  and  other  impro\  ements  on  the 
ground,  such  as  they  may  deem  necessary,  and  sucb,  as  the  associa- 
tion, or  Camp-Meeting  Committee,  may  require,  provided  that  they 
shall  not  incur  a  debt  except  by  permission  of  the  Camp-Meeting 
Committee. 

Sec.  3.  It  is  understood  that  the  several  charges  represented  in 
this  association  will  annually  hold  camp-meetings  conjointly,  but  the 
Trustees  may  permit  a  camp-meeting  to  be  held  whenever  the  pastor  of 


a6ton  lectures. 


Kny  circuit  or  sta  tion  represented  in  the  association  shall  signify  a  desire 
to  hold  such  a  meeting,  pt-ovided  no  meeting  shall  conflict  with  the 
general'  camp-meeting,  and  th^y  may  permit  other  religious  meetings 
when  similarly  requested. 

Sec.  4.  Thty  may  permit  Sunday  school  picnics  and  other  moral' 
and  religious  celebrations  6h  the  ground,  and  they  may  allow,  in  con- 
nection with  thes'e  meeti-ngs,  amusements  not  inconsistent  with  the 
precepts  and  spirit  of  the  Christian  religion.  But  dancing  and  other 
improper  amusements  shall  neVer  be  permitted  on  the  ground. 

Sec.  5.  I'hey  shall  not  allow  any  other  meetings  0I1  the  land 
belonging  to  the  association  un'less  with  the  cons'ent  ot  the  association 
or  the  Camp-Meeting  Committee. 

Sec.  6.  They  may  permtit  boarding  tents  to  be  kept  on  the" 
ground,  provided  that  unreasonable  charges  for  boarding  shall  not  be 
made,  and  provided  that  no  person  shall  be  allowed  to  keep  a  boarding 
tent,  or  other  place  of  resort,  who  shall  be  unwilling  to  submit  to  the 
rules  governing  the  meeting,  or  who  shall  keep  for  sale  any  intoxicat- 
ing liquors,  tobacco,  or  anything  except  food  for  man  or  beast,  provi- 
ded, moreover,  that  persons  may  be  permitted  to  sell  religious  books. 

Sec.  7.  They  shall  present  annually  to  the  Camp-Meeting  Com- 
mittee, or  its  president,  a  written  report  of  their  acts  and  doings  for 
the  year,  and  of  the  condition  of  the  property  held  in  trust  for  the 
association. 

ARTICLE  IIL 

Section"  1.  The  camp-meeting  shall  be  under  the  control  of  the 
Presiding  Elder  of  the  district  within  which  the  camp  ground  shall  be 
situated,  provided  that  the  Presiding  Folder  may  authorize  any  other 
itinerant  minister  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  to  take  charge  of 
the  meeting. 

Sec.  2.  Collections  may  be  taken  either  privately  or  publicly  for 
improvements  on  the  grounds,  for  expen.ses  of  any  of  the  meetings, 
for  any  liabilities  of  the  association,  and  for  benevolent  and  religious 
purposes. 

Sec.  3.  The  Trustees  shall  have  power  to  employ  such  police 
force  as  may  be  necessary  to  enforce  a  due  observance  of  order  on  the 
camp  ground  during  any  and  all  meetings. 

ARTICLE  IV. 

These  by-laws  may  be  altered  by  a  two-thirds  vote  of  those  pres- 
ent and  voting  at  any  meeting  of  the  association,  or  of  the  Camp- 
Meeting  Committee. 

F.  C.  HOLLIDAV,  President. 


SAMP-MBBTINGS  OF  THE  OLDEN  TIMES. 


BY  F.  C.  HOLLTDAY,  D.  D. 


Delivered  on  the  Acton  Camp  Ground,  August  2,  1881. 


Christian  Camp- Meetings  are  an  American  Institution.  God's 
ancient  people  were  required  annually  to  keep  the  "Feast  of  Taber- 
nacles," which  was  a  National  Camp-Meeting,  "for  seven  days,  and  the 
eighth  day  was  a  holy  convocation,  in  which  no  servile  work  was  to  be 
performed." 

This  annual  National  Camp-Meeting  was  observed  with  great 
regularity  and  joyousness  by  the  Israelites,  from  the  settlement  of 
Canaan  under  Joshua,  down  to  the  time  of  their  overthrow  by  the 
Romans,  after  the  death  of  Christ. 

They  cut  down  branches  of  trees  and  made  them  booths  and  tents, 
and  the  feast  was  one  of  joy  and  gladness. 

The  first  camp-meeting  in  the  United  States  was  held  in  1799,  ^^"^ 
the  banks  of  the  Red  river  in  Kentucky.  Two  brothers  by  the  name 
of  McGee,  one  a  Presbyterisn  and  the  other  a  Methodist,  being  on  a 
religious  tour  from  Tennessee,  where  the  former  was  settled,  to  a  place 
called  "the  Barens,"  near  the  Ohio  river,  stopped  at  a  settlement  on 
the  river  to  attend  a  sacramental  occasion  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  McGreedy, 
a  Presbyterian.  John  McGee,  the  Methodist,  was  invited  to  preach, 
and  he  did  so  with  great  liberty  and  power.  His  brother,  and  Rev. 
Mr.  Hodge  followed  him  with  sermons  with  remarkable  effect.  The 
spirit  was  graciously  poured  out  upon  the  people,  and  produced  tears 
of  contrition  and  shouts  of  joy. 

Revs.  Messers  McGreedy,  Hodge  and  Ranks,  all  Presbyterians 
left  the  house,  but  the  McGees  were  too  powerfully  affected  them- 
selves, to  flee  under  circumstances  of  so  much  interest. 

John  McGee  was  expected  to  preach  again ;  but  when  the  time 
arrived,  he  arose  and  informed  the  people  that  the  over-powering  nature 


22 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


of  his  feelings  would  not  allow  of  his  i)reaching,  and  exhorted  them  to 
surrender  their  hearts  to  God.  Cries  and  sobs  were  heard  in  every 
part  of  the  house.  The  excitement  was  indescribable.  When  the 
noise  of  this  extraordinary  movement  reached  the  surrounding  coun- 
try, the  people  rushed  to  see  what  these  things  meant,  for  they  had 
never  heard  of  the  like  before.  The  meeting  house  could  not  contain 
the  people.  An  altar  was  erected  to  the  Lord  in  the  forest.  This 
gave  a  new  impulse  to  the  meeting,  people  came  from  tar  and  near, 
bringing  with  them  provisions,  and  other  necessaries  for  encampment, 
and  remained  several  days  dwelling  in  tents.  It  was  a  memorable  oc- 
casion, and  the  power  of  God  was  wonderfully  displa)'ed  in  the  awak- 
ening and  conversion  of  souls.  Sectarian  differences  were  forgotten 
in  the  effort  to  promote  spiritual  religion.  These  services  were  con- 
tinued by  Presbyterians,  Methodists  and  Baptists.  The  result  was 
unparalleled,  and  suggested  another  meeting  of  the  kind,  which  was 
held  on  Muddy  river,  three  miles  east  of  Russelville,  and  was  con- 
ducted by  the  McGees.  The  attendance  was  large,  and  about  forty 
souls  were  converted. 

This  was  the  origin  of  camp-meetings  in  the  United  States. 

The  next  camp-meeting  was  held  in  Sumner  county,  Tennessee, 
ten  miles  west  of  Galatin,  and  a  little  south-east  of  the  Cumberland 
Ridge.  This  meeting  was  largely  attended,  and  for  intensity  of  feel- 
ing, for  extraordinary  displays  of  Divine  power,  and  for  the  amount  of 
good  accomplished,  surpassed  the  former  two.  It  was  estimated  that 
at  least  twenty  thousand  people  attended  this  meeting.  In  a  letter 
under  date  of  June  23,  1820,  to  Rev.  Thomas  L.  Douglass,  then -Pre- 
siding Elder  of  Nashville  District,  Rev.  John  McGee,  gives  the  follow- 
ing account  of  the  camp-meeting  at  Cumberland  Ridge. 

"The  next  meeting  was  on  the  Ridge,  where  there  was  an  in- 
crease of  people,  and  carriages  of  differrent  descriptions,  and  a  great 
many  preachers  of  the  Presbyterian  and  Methodist  orders,  and  some 
Baptists,  but  the  latter  were  generally  opposed  to  the  work.  Preach- 
ing commenced,  and  the  people  prayed,  and  the  power  of  God  attend- 
ed. There  was  a  great  cry  for  mercy.  The  nights  were  truly  awful ; 
the  Camp  Ground  was  well  illuminated.  The  people  were  differently 
affected  all  over  the  ground,  some  exhorting,  some  shouting,  some 
praying  and  some  crying  for  mercy,  while  others  lay  as  dead  men  on 
the  ground. 

"Some  of  the  spiritually  wounded  fled  to  the  woods,  and  their 
groans  could  be  heard  all  through  the  surrounding  groves,  as  the 
groans  of  dying  men.  From  thence  many  came  into  the  camp,  rejoic- 
ing and  praising  God  for  having  found  redemption  in  the  blood  of 


ACTON   LFXTURES.  23 

the  Lamb.  At  this  meetiing  it  was  computed  that  one  hundred 
souls  were  converted  from  nature  to  grace.  But  perhaps  the  greatest 
meeting  ever  witnessed  in  this  country,  took  place  shortly  after,  on 
Deshae's  creek,  near  Cumberland  river.  Many  thousands  of  people 
attended.  The  mighty  power  and  mercy  of  God  were  manifested. 
The  people  fell  before  the  word  like  corn  before  a  storm  of  wind, 
and  many  arose  from  the  dust  with  Divine  glory  shining  in  their  coun- 
tenances, and  gave  glory  to  God  in  such  strains  as  made  the  hearts  of 
stubl)orn  sinners  to  tremble;  and  after  the  first  gust  of  praise,  they 
would  break  forth  in  voUies  of  exhortation. The  revivals  thus  begun 
under  the  labors  of  John  and  William  McGee,  soon  spread  over 
southern  Kentucky,  and  through  what  is  now  known  as  middle  Ten- 
nessee. 

The  Presbyterians  gradually  retired  from  the  field,  but  the  Meth- 
odists not  only  continued  camp-meetings,  but  they  carried  them  into 
other  parts  of  the  country,  till  they  became  general  in  the  connection. 

Thus  we  have  seen  that  camp-meetmgs  were  born  of  a  revival, 
and  for  many  years  they  were  looked  to,  and  relied  upon  as  a  great 
agency  in  promoting  revivals  of  religion.  At  one  of  these  early  camp- 
meetings,  while  a  son  of  thunder  was  pouring  out  the  terrors  of  the  law, 
and  describing  the  torments  of  the  damned  until  one  could  almost 
hear  their  groans  of  dispair,  an  old  revolutionary  soldier,  who  was 
standing  in  j:he  rear  of  the  congregation,  came  rushing  towards  the 
preachers  standing,  crying  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "quarter I  quarter! 
quarter!"  and  falling  on  his  knees  said,  'T  am  an  old  soldier;  I  have 
fought  through  the  Revolutionary  war;  I  have  heard  the  cannons  loud 
roar,  and  have  seen  blood  and  brains  flying  all  around  me ;  but  since 
God  made  me,  1  never  heard  such  cannonading  as  this.  I  yield!  I 
yield!" 

The  first  cainp-meeiing  ever  held  in  the  territory  of  Indiana,  was 
held  on  White  W'ater,  between  Brookville  and  Harrison,  and  was  un- 
der the  supervision  of  Rev.  Hezekiah  Shaw,  in  1808.  At  this  camp- 
meetmg,  Allen  Wiley,  whose  ministerial  labors  subsequently  did  so 
much  to  bless  the  state  and  build  up  the  church  in  Indiana,  was,  for 
the  first  time  found  as  a  penitent  at  the  mourners  bench,  seeking  sal- 
vation. 

Early  m  the  fall  of  the  same  year.  Rev.  WilHam  Burke,  then 
a  Presiding  Elder  in  Kentucky,  and  Moses  Ashworth,  who  was  on 
Silver  creek  circuit  in  Indiana,  held  a  camp-meeting  in  the  Robertson 
neighborhood  in  Clark  county.  The  novelty  of  the  meeting  attracted 
large  numbers,  although  there  was  no  special  revival  of  religion. 

The  third  camp-meeting  in  the  state  was  held  in  the  summer  of 


24 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


1810,  in  what  was  then  Dearborn,  now  Wayne  county,  about  midway 
between  the  city  of  Richmond  and  the  town  of  Centerville.  Rev. 
John  Sale  was  the  Presiding  Elder:  and  Samuel  H.  Thompson  ana 
Thomas  Nelson  were  the  circuit  jjreachers.  At  this  camp-meet- 
ing a  goodly  number  were  converted.  From  this  place  the  camp- 
meetings  were  removed  further  east,  and  located  on  the  farm  of  Rev. 
Hugh  Cull,  where  they  were  continued  for  several  years  and  were  in- 
strumental in  the  accomplishment  of  much  good. 

Rev.  Hugh  Cull  was  perhaps  the  first  Methodist  jjreacher  in  the 
territory  of  Indiana.  He  was  a  member  of  the  convention  that  framed 
the  first  constitution  of  our  state.  He  settled  a  few  miles  south  of  the 
present  city  of  Richmond.  Camp-meetings  were  held  on  his  farm  for 
a  number  of  years,  and  the  regular  circuit  preaching  was  at  his  house 
from  1805  to  1824.  He  was  a  man  of  sterling  integrity,  of  considera- 
ble ability,  an  industrious  local  preacher,  and  earnest  and  zealous  in 
his  religion ;  a  weeping,  shouting  Methodist. 

He  continued  to  preach  until  within  a  year  of  his  death,  which 
occurred,  August  30,  1862,  in  the  one  hundred  and  fifth  year  of  his  age ^ 
and  the  sixty-fifth  of  his  ministry. 

In  1803,  the  first  camp-meeting  was  held  east  of  the  mountains. 
Rev.  Nicholas  Snethen,  a  man  of  superior  preaching  abilities,  had 
been  traveling  with  Bishoj)  Asbury  in  the  west,  and  had  had  an  op- 
portunity of  attending  several  camp-meetings  in  the  course  gf  the  jour- 
ney. He  became  fully  convinced  that  they  might  be  introduced  with 
great  advantage  east  of  the  mountains.  Accordingly  on  his  return  he 
determined  to  have  one  near  Baltimore  where  he  was  then  stationed. 

Joshua  Wells  was  in  charge  and  was  opposed  to  the  measure,  but 
finally  "yielded  so  far  as  to  allow  Mr.  Snethen  and  his  other  colleague, 
Samuel  Coats,  to  do  as  they  pleased,  but  he  himself  stood  entirely 
aloof  from  the  meeting.  Robert  R.  Roberts,  afterwards  Bishop,  at- 
tended this  meeting.  He  was  then  a  young  circuit  preacher.  At 
this  meeting,  Mr.  Snethen  preached  with  great  power,  and  sinners  fell 
under  the  preaching  of  the  word. 

In  1817,  there  were  two  camp-meetings  held  on  the  Lawrence- 
burg  circuit,  which  that  year  enjoyed  the  labors  of  Russel  Bigelow 
and  x\llen  ^Viley.  The  first  was  held  on  Crooked  creek,  within  the 
present  limits  of  the  city  of  Madison.  The  results  of  this  meeting 
were  truly  glorious.  Many  substantial  citizens  who  lived  for  years  as 
ornaments  of  piety,  and  earnest  workers  for  the  Lord,  were  added  to 
the  church.  The  revival  did  not  close  with  the  camp-meeting,  but 
continued  with  unabated  interest  for  some  time.  The  local  preachers 
in  the  vicinity,  in  the  absence  of  the  traveling  preachers,  kept  up  the 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


25 


meetings,  and  the  work  went  gloriously  forward;  and  mnny  were  con- 
verted at  their  homes,  as  well  at  the  place  of  meeting. 

The  other  camp-meeting  was  on  the  bank  of  South  Hogan  creek, 
just  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  between  Aurora  and  Wilmington,  in  Dear- 
born county.  The  meeting  closed  on  Monday  in  a  most  impressive 
manner.  Bigelow  formed  the  congre';ation  into  a  company  like  sol- 
diers in  double  file,  and  marched  around  the  encampment,  singing  a]j- 
propriate  farewell  hymns,  after  which  the  preachers  took  their  stand  at 
some  convenient  point,  and  bade  them  all  farewell  by  shaking  hands 
with  eacji  of  them,  and  getting  pledges  from  as  many  as  they  could,  to 
meet  them  in  heaven.  It  was  truly  a  heart-melting  time.  Bigelow 
Avas  bidding  adieu  to  his  flock,  for  this  was  the  close  of  his  labors  on 
I.awrenceburg  circuit,  and  he  exhorted  the  people  in  touching  strains 
to  meet  him  in  heaven.  There  were  perhaps  as  many  souls  converted 
during  this  meeting  as  there  had  been  during  the  one  at  Madison,  but 
the  work  did  not  extend  so  far  beyond  the  meeting,  and  the  perma- 
nent results  were  not  as  great. 

In  1826,  a  memorable  camp-meeting  was  held  by  John  Strange,  in 
what  is  now  the  center  of  the  town  of  Moores  Hill,  Strange  then  being 
Presiding  Elder  of  Madison  District,  Illinois  Conference. 

The  meeting  closed  on  Monday  forenoon,  with  a  ])owerful  sermon 
by  the  Presiding  Elder,  founded  on  Ezekiel's  vision  of  the  valley  of  dry 
bones.  At  the  close  of  the  sermon,  Strange  proposed  that  those  who 
would  promise  to  meet  him  in  heaven,  should  form  in  a  procession,  and 
march  around  the  encampment,  and  those  who  would  not  so  promise, 
should  remain  in  the  center  of  the  encampment  while  the  others  march- 
ed around  them. 

In  the  summer  of  1829,  there  was  a  glorious  camp-meeting  held 
on  Fall  creek  circuit,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  present  town  of  Pendleton. 
Charles  Bonner  was  in  charge  of  the  circuit.  He  had  just  been  admit- 
ted on  trial  into  the  conference,  and  the  name  of  the  circuit  appears  for 
the  first  time  in  the  minutes.  Young  Bonner  was  remarkably  zealous 
and  the  year  was  one  of  great  success.  Fall  creek  circuit  was  then  in 
the  Madison  District,  and  Allen  Wiley  was  the  Presiding  Elder.  At  this 
meeting  more  than  fifty  souls  were  converted  to  God.  A  part  of  the 
sermon  by  the  Presiding  Elder  at  11.00  a.  m.  on  Sunday  was  devoted 
to  the  subject  of  Baptism,  and  at  the  close  of  the  sermon,  between 
forty  and  fifty  adults  and  children,  were  solemnly  baptised.  After  the 
public  baptism  was  over,  the  Elder  was  informed  that  there  was  a  poor 
afflicted  man  in  a  wagon,  whose  body  was  to  a  considerable  extent  de- 
cayed by  some  kind  of  abscess  or  ulceration;  but  that  there  was  yet  body 
enough  left  to  hold  the  soul,  which  could  not  stay  much  longer  on  the 


26 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


earth,  as  disease  was  rapidly  approaching  the  vital  parts  of  the  system. 
This  poor  Lazarus  with  all  of  his  stench  of  disease,  heard  the  sermon 
and  felt  its  force,  and  desired  to  ht  baptised  before  he  died,  and  his 
wish  was  met  in  the  wagon. 

[f  baptism  were  confined  to  immersion  alone,  this  poor  man  must 
have  died  unbaptised.  for  the.  most  zealous  immersionist  would  not 
have  attempted  to  put  the  fragments  ol  his  decaying  body  under  the 
w^ater.  But  the  water  sprinkled  on  his  brow,  was  to  him  the  valid 
sign  of  Gods  covenant  of  grace,  and  in  a  few  days  his  peaceful  spirit 
left  the  decaying  tenement,  for  the  heavenly  rest. 

The  first  camp-rneeting  in  LaPorte  county,  was  held  in  1832, 
on  the  farm  of  j.  Osborn,  while  James  Armstrong,  who  was  then  in 
charge  of  the  Mission  District,  was  on  his  death  bed.  He  was  unable 
to  leave  his  room,  l)ut  he  gave  directions  for  the  management  of  the 
meeting.  Boyd,  Phelps.  A.  Johnson  and  E.  Smith  were  the  preach- 
ers at  the  meeting.  Armstrong  was  a  born  leader;  his  organizing  and 
magnetic  power  were  conspicuous  in  his  management  of  camp-meetings 
in  this  new  country.  He  came  to  Indiana  in  182  i,  and  in  the  fall  of  the 
same  year  united  with  the  conference,  and  continued  an  able  and  effi- 
cient minister  till  the  close  of  life.  He  was  a  man  of  immense  power — 
strong,  logical  and  conclusive.  He  threw  his  whole  soul  into  his  work, 
and  if  sometimes  he  was  not  altogether  precise  in  his  style,  yet  at 
others  he  seemed  almost  moved  by  inspiration,  so  completely  were  his 
words  expressive  of  his  correct  thoughts.  When  he  intended  to  strike 
a  hard  blow  he  never  failed  to  make  it  terriffic,  shivering  the  helmet  of 
whatsoever  adversary  dared  in  his  presence  to  assail  the  citadel  of 
Christianity. 

In  the  early  history  of  the  state  it  was  common  for  each  circuit 
to  have  its  own  camp-meeting,  generally  beginning  in  the  middle  of  the 
week  and  closing  on  the  following  Monday.  There  was  little  financial 
expense  incurred  in  their  management.  The  tents  were  made  of  cotton 
cloth  or  sheets  sewed  together.  Others  were  built  of  poles  and  cov- 
ered with  clapboards,  and  others  lodged  in  their  covered  w\agon-l)eds. 
Each  family  brought  their  own  provisions,  did  their  own  cooking,  and 
exercised  a  generous  hospitality,  often  inquiring  around  the  encamp- 
ment for  any  that  had  not  been  fed.  Often  the  preachers  stand,  and 
the  preacher's  tent,  which  was  built  in  connection  with  it  or  right  in  the 
rear  of  it,  were  the  only  permanent  structures  on  the  ground,  the  others 
all  being  removed  at  the  close  of  the  meeting. 

Not  un frequently  there  would  be  six  or  eight  camp-meetings  in  a 
presiding  elder's  district,  and  the  last  round  of  quarterly  meetings  for 
the  year  would  l)e  mainly  camp-meedngs,  requiring  the  Presiding  Elder 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


27 


to  spend  six  or  eight  weeks  continuously  in  the  woods,  going  directly 
from  one  camp-meeting  to  another.  There  were  a  number  of  locali- 
ties in  the  state  where  camp-meetings  were  permanent,  or  where  they 
were  held  on  the  same  ground  from  year  to  year,  through  a  series  ot 
years.  Such  was  the  ground  known  as  Doddridge's  Camp-Ground,  m 
AVayne  county,  near  the  present  site  of  Doddridge's  meeting  house. 
Here  Strange,  and  Wiley,  and  Havens  used  to  marshal!  their  forces; 
and  here  man;  hundreds,  who  have  been  useful  on  earth  and  are  now 
happy  in  Heaven,  were  converted. 

For  several  years  camp-meetings  were  held  on  the  ground  ot  Mr. 
Lowry,  in  what  is  now  the  south-west  corner  of  the  town  of  Knights- 
town',  in  Henry  county,  which  was  then  in  Rushville  circuit.  The 
first  of  these  meetings  was  held  in  the  summer  of  1837,  under  the  su- 
perintendency  of  James  Havens.  Nearly  thirty  ])reachers  attended 
this  meeting,  among  whom  were  James  Havens.  Augustus  Eddy,  E. 
R.  Ames,  J.  C.  Smith.  Elijah  \Vhitten,  C.  B.  Jones,  G.  M.  Beswick 
and  Robert  Burns.  The  religious  interest  of  the  meeiing  was  excellent 
from  the  first. 

On  Sunday  night,  just  after  the  lamps  had  been  lighted  and  the 
audience  called  together  for  public  worship,  there  burst  suddenly  on 
the  encampment  one  of  those  feartul  tornadoes  with  which  our  country 
is  occasionally  visited.  In  an  instant  every  light  was  extinguished  and 
the  audience  left  in  profound  darkness,  sa\'e  when  it  was  relieved  b}- 
the  flash  of  the  lightning.  The  wind  leveled  a  track  through  the  forest, 
just  across  one  end  of  the  encampment,  as  eftectually  as  the  mower  cuts' 
the  grass  with  his  scythe.  The  audience  had  been  gathered  just  out- 
side of  the  track  of  the  tornado.  A  beach  tree  of  considerable  size, 
standing  within  the  circle  of  tents,  was  blown  down  right  toward  the 
altar,  which  was  covered  with  a  frame  shed.  Large  numbers  were 
knocked  down,  either  by  the  force  of  the  wind  or  the  branches  of  the 
tree,  but  no  one  was  hurt.  Two  men,  who  were  standing  under  the 
tree,  fell  into  the  hole  where  the  tree  had  stood,  a  faUing  tree  knocked 
a  tent  over  them  that  was  just  in  the  rear  of  where  they  stood,  and  yet 
they  were  rescued  unhurt.  One  entire  row  of  tents  was  prostrated  by 
the  falling  timber,  but  none  of  the  inmates  were  injured.  A  large  tree- 
top  broke  off  and  lodged  right  over  the  top  of  a  tent  crowded  with 
people.  So  numerous  and  marvelous  were  the  escapes  that  they  made 
a  profound  impression  upon  the  minds  of  the  people.  The  work  of 
God  broke  out  with  increased  power  on  Monday,  and  many,  doubtless, 
owed  their  awakening  to  the  incidents  of  the  tornado. 

The  first  person  to  come  to  the  altar  for  prayers  on  Monday  was  a 
man  who  had  compelled  his  wife  to  leave  the  altar  on  Sunday  after- 


28 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


noon.  At  the  close  of  an  earnest  appeal  from  Elijah  VVhitten,  on  Mon- 
day morning,  many  came  to  the  altar  as  seekers  of  religion,  and  that 
man,  with  his  wife,  led  the  way. 

Jacob's  camp-ground,  in  Clark  county,  was  another  rallying  place 
of  Methodism  for  a  number  of  years.  In  1819  a  memorable  revival  of 
religion  prevailed  throughout  that  part  of  the  country.  It  began  at  a 
camp-meeting  held  on  Jacob's  camp-ground.  The  good  work  con- 
tinued long  after  the  camp-meeting  closed,  and  extended  to  every  neigh- 
borhood throughout  the  old  Silver  Creek  circuit. 

A  number  of  memorable  camp-meetings  were  held  withni  the  pres- 
ent limits  of  the  city  of  Indianapolis,  and  not  a  few  of  the  old  members 
of  the  churches  in  the  city  now  were  converted  at  these  meetings. 

The  one  held  by  James  Havens  in  1836,  during  which  he  had  the 
memorable  rencounter  with  the  desperado,  Burkhart,  is  still  remem- 
bered by  many.  Burkhart  had  threatened  to  break  up  the  meeting, 
and  all  of  the  civil  officers  stood  in  fear  of  him.  Burkhart  came 
on  the  ground  fully  armed  and  bade  defiance  to  all  authority.  Mr. 
Havens  said  to  a  magistrate:  "Swear  me  in  as  a  deputy  constable, 
and  I  will  arrest  him."  He  was  accordingly  sworn  in,  and  immedi- 
ately started  for  his  man.  Having  overtaken  him,  he  locked  arms  with 
him  and  asked  him  to  take  a  walk,  and,  while  walking.  Havens  quietly 
transferred  several  stones  from  the  side  pocket  of  Mr.  Burkhart's  blouse 
into  his  own.  Burkhart  soon  refused  to  go  further,  when  Havens  in- 
formed him  that  he  was  a  prisoner  and  must  go  with  him  to  the  mag- 
istrate's office.  Remonstrance  and  opposition  were  alike  unavailing. 
When  m  the  magistrate's  office,  and  while  some  of  the  witnesses  were 
giving  in  their  testimony  against  him,  Burkhart  suddenly  sprang  to  his 
feet,  and,  brandishing  a  large  knife,  swore  he  had  bought  it  to  cut 
Havens's  heart  out,  and  started  for  Mr.  Havens,  but,  when  he  came 
in  reach,  Havens  dealt  him  such  a  blow  with  his  fist  as  sent  him  to 
the  floor  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  when  the  ruffian  was  se- 
cured and  taken  to  jail.  But,  in  spite  of  this  little  episode,  the  work 
of  the  Lord  mightily  prevailed,  and  many  souls  were-converted. 

The  early  camp-meetings  were  not  regarded  as  seasons  of  rest  or 
recreation.  They  were  not  looked  to  as  health  resorts,  or  as  affording 
opportunities  of  literary  or  social  culture.  But  they  were  regarded  as 
seasons  of  special  religious  effort ;  and  these  meetings  were  character- 
ized by  earnest,  concentrated  effort  and  intense  zeal  on  the  part  of  both 
preachers  and  people.  They  preached  and  prayed  for  immediate  re- 
sults, and  (rod  honored  their  faith. 

Multitudes  who  were  unaccustomed  to  hearing  the  gospel  were 
brought   under  religious  influence  at    these   meetings,   and  multi- 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


29 


tudes  fell  to  the  ground  under  the  preaching  of  the  word.  'llie  cries 
of  the  penitents  and  the  shouts  of  the  converted  were  such  as  would 
now  be  regarded  as  the  height  of  extravagance. 

As  these  meetings  increased  in  size  the  labor  of  cooking  became 
an  intolerable  burden  and  prevented  many  of  the  women  from  attend- 
ing the  religious  services.  As  a  consequence,  camp-meetings  became 
less  frequent.  Ot  late  years  they  are  being  revived  in  a  form  that 
relieves  tent-holders  not  only  from  the  burden  of  setting  public  tables, 
but  from  much  of  the  labor  of  ordinary  housekeeping. 

^'Why  should  we,  in  the  world's  ripe  years,  neglect  God's  ancient 
sanctuaries  and  adore  only  among  the  crowd  and  under  roofs  that  our 
frail  hands  have  raised.'' 

No  narrative  of  early  camp-meetings  would  be  complete  that  did 
not  contain  a  sketch  of  some  of  their  more  prominent  leaders.  At  the 
head  of  this  list,  at  least  in  the  order  of  time  in  our  own  State,  stands 
the  name  of  Rev.  John  Strange.  He  was  in  many  respects  a  remarka- 
ble man.  He  evinced  a  singular  deadness  to  the  world  and  a  remark- 
able trust  in  Divine  Providence.  He  was  a  man  of  slender  form, 
black  hair,  keen,  penetrating  eyes ;  a  rich,  musical  voice,  clear  and  dis- 
tinct in  its  tones,  rising  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  key  without  the 
slightest  jar.  He  was  a  charming  singer.  His  power  over  an  audi- 
ence was  wonderful.  In  voice  and  gesture  he  was  faultless.  Oratory 
was  natural  to  him.  No  man  was  ever  more  truly  l)orn  a  poet  than 
John  Strange  was  an  orator.  Often,  in  his  happiest  flights  of  elo- 
quence he  would  lift  his  audience  from  their  seats,  and  hundreds  would 
find  themselves  unconsciously  standing  on  their  feet  and  gazing  intent- 
ly at  the  speaker.  His  descriptive  powers  were  fine.  When  he  was 
preaching  the  funeral  of  Rev.  Edwin  Ray,  in  Indianapolis — the  father 
of  Col.  John  W.  Ray — who  had  been  his  intimate  friend  and  associate, 
towards  the  close  of  the  sermon,  while  describing  the  second  com- 
ing of  Christ,  he  represented  Him  as  descending  in  the  clouds, 
bringing  the  saints  with  Him.  He  stood  erect  a  moment,  and  cried 
out:  Where  is  Edwin  Ray  I  "  Still  looking  up,  he  exclaimed  .  "I 
see  him  !  I  see  him  I  "  and  then,  with  both  hands  raised  as  if  welcoming 
him,  and  with  a  voice  that  seemed  to  reach  the  Heavens,  he  cried! 

Hail,  Edwin!  Hail,  Edwin  I  Hail,  Edwin!"  The  effect  was 
thrilling,  and  never  to  be  forgotten  by  those  who  heard  it. 

On  one  occasion,  when  Strange  was  preaching  on  Sunday  at  camp- 
meeting,  the  tide  of  feeling  rose  higher  and  higher.  He  took  one  of 
his  wonderful  flights  of  eloquence,  which  lifted  the  congregation,  and  a 
general  shout  arose.  Hearing  the  great  shout  which  arose  from  with- 
in the  circle  of  tents,  a  crowd  of  persons,  who  had  been  wandering 


^0 


ACTON  LEiCtURfeS. 


about  on  the  outside  of  the  encampment,  came  rushing  through  ari 
opening  into  the  circle  of  tents  and  down  the  central  aisle  towards  the 
stand.  Seeing  the  coming  throng,  Mr..  Strange  stopped  short,  raised 
himself  to  his  fullest  height,  and,  standing  tip-toe,  threw  his  hand  for- 
ward, pointing  directly  toward  the  crowd,  and  exclaimed  with  a 
voice  which  startled  the  people  :  "  Here  they  come  now  !  My  Lord, 
shoot  them  as  they  come!'"  At  once,  scores  of  loud  "amens"  rolled 
up  from  the  congregation.  Instantly,  as  if  smitten  by  lightning,  the 
whole  crowd  of  sinners,  who  were  pressing  down  the  central  aisle, 
dropped  into  the  seats,  or  to  the  ground,  and  from  that  moment  the 
congregation  seemed  spellbound  to  the  close  of  the  sermon. 

Rev.  x\llen  Wiley,  who,  perhaps,  presided  over  as  many  camp- 
meetings  as  any  other  man  in  the  state,  was  systematjc  and  logical,  a 
great  lover  of  order,  and  he  took  pains  to  secure  it  without  any  osten- 
tatious display  of  authority.  His  voice  was  monotonous  and  heavy,  yet 
such  was  his  abilit}'  and  learning,  and  the  freshness  of  his  matter,  that 
his  sermons  were  entertaining  and  popular,  as  well  as  instructive.  His 
camp-meeting  sermons  made  a  profound  impression  on  the  thousands 
who  heard  him.  He  discussed  the  great  questions  of  Christian  theol- 
ogy, as  well  as  the  live  issues  of  the  times,  with  an  ability  and  thor- 
oughness that  went  far  to  mould  public  opinion  and  strengthen  public 
morals.  His  style  was  perspicuous,  and  persons  were  never  in  doubt 
as  to  what  he  meant.  On  all  questions  of  public  morality  he  exerted  a 
wholesome  and  wide-spread  influence.  He  was  a  prince  and  leader  in 
our  Israel. 

Rev.  James  Havens  was  at  home,  and  i)ractically  in  his  element, 
when  conducting  a  camp-meeting.  On  such  occasions  his  great  power 
over  an  audience  and  his  ability  to  command  were  conspicuous.  He 
seemed  born  to  command.  By  his  bold  and  positive  manner  he 
seemed  to  sometimes  invite  opposition.  He  meant  just  what  he  said 
— no  more,  no  less — and  those  who  attempted  to  trifle  with  his  author- 
ity soon  found  that  he  was  master  of  the  situation.  He  never  suf- 
fered defeat. 

(Jn  one  occasion,  when  he  was  holding  a  camp-meeting  on  the 
southern  border  of  Marion  county,  a  huckster  had  established  himself 
with  his  articles  of  traffic  a  short  distance  from  the  encampment,  in  vi- 
olation of  the  laws  of  the  state.  Mr.  Havens  w^ent  to  him  and  re- 
quested him  to  leave,  or  to  remove  further  from  the  encampment, 
where  he  would  produce  no  disturbance.  He  not  only  refused  to  go, 
but  threatened,  if  not  let  alone  in  his  business,  that  with  the  whiskey 
he  had  brought  with  him,  he  would  make  enough  men  drunk  to  go  to 
the  encampment  and  drive  the  Metnodist  preachers  and  people  from 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


the  encampment.  Havens  returned  to  the  camp  ground,  had  the 
trumpet  blown,  and  the  people  collected  at  the  stand  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible. He  told  them  what  the  huckster  had  threatened  to  do,  and 
called  upon  the  young  men  in  the  congregation  to  know  if  they  were 
going  to  allow  their  mothers,  wives  and  sisters  to  be  insulted  and 
driven  off  the  ground  in  that  way.  "  No  I  No! was  responded  from 
every  part  of  the  audience.  One  young  man  said:  "Mr.  Havens, 
we  will  rout  him.  Come  on  boys!"  and,  leading  the  way,  some  two 
hundred  young  men  followed  him.  They  proceeded  to  the  huckster's 
establishment  and  informed  him  that  he  must  leave  immediately.  He 
said  he  reckoned  not.  They  told  him  it  was  even  so.  He  proposed 
to  go  in  a  few  hours.  They  said  now,  immediately,  or  we  will  tramp 
your  traps  into  the  ground  beneath  our  feet.  They  made  him  pack  uj) 
and  leave  without  waiting  to  deliberate  on  the  manner  of  his  going. 

Havens  was  rich  in  expedients  in  the  management  of  a  camp- 
meeting.  He  was  holding  a  camp-meeting  in  Hamilton  county.  It 
had  been  in  progress  for  several  days,  but  the  church  had  gained  no 
decided  victory.  I'he  camp  ground  had  been  occupied  for  several 
years.  Some  of  the  camp-meetings  held  there  had  been  very  success- 
ful. Havens  said  to  the  preachers  :  We  have  fought  the  Devil  here 
until  he  understands  the  ground  as  well  as  we  do.  We  will  take  him 
by  surprise  to-night."  His  plan  of  battle  was  agreed  upon.  The  en- 
campment was  large,  the  tents  enclosing  much  more  space  than  was 
filled  with  seats.  He  ordered  some  posts  ])lanted  in  the  open  space, 
upon  which  to  place  lights,  and  a  quantity  of  straw  to  be  spread  on 
the  ground  enclosed  with  these  posts;  then  a  number  of  benches  were 
brought  and  placed  upon  the  straw.  These  movements  excited  some 
curiosity,  and  many  were  the  inquiries  as  to  what  this  meant,  but  no 
explanation  was  given.  About  sundown  Havens  ordered  a  number  of 
prayer-meetings  commenced  in  tents  at  different  points  around  the  en- 
campment, and  appointed  skillful  men  to  lead  them.  After  night  had 
closed  in,  and  while  the  prayer-meetings  were  in  full  blast,  he  formed  a 
circle  of  men  joining  hands,  around  where  the  benches  were  placed, 
directing  them  to  admit  no  one  within  the  circle  but  penitents,  preach- 
ers and  such  other  persons  as  he  might  direct,  to  pray  with  and 
instruct  the  mourners.  He  then  appointed  men  to  go  to  the  different 
prayer-meetings,  and,  at  the  sound  of  the  trumpet,  bring  out  the  peo- 
ple and  come  singing  to  the  circle,  and  if  there  were  any  penitents,  to 
bring  them  and  seat  them  on  the  benches.  By  this  time  the  excite- 
ment was  running  high.  At  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  the  people  came 
in  from  every  direction  from  the  prayer-meetings,  their  songs  ringing 
out  on  the  evening  air  and  causing  the  forest  to  vibrate  with  sounds  of 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


almost  heavenly  melody.  The  wicked  were  awe-stricken.  Several 
penitents  were  brought  inside  the  circle.  Havens  mounted  a  bench  and 
gave  a  most  powerful  exhortation,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  the  con- 
gregation sang  that  appropriate  hymn  : 

"Come  ye  sinners,  poor  and  needy, 
WeaK  and  wounded,  sick  and  sore, 
Jesus  ready  stands  to  save  you; 
Full  of  pity,  love  and  pov»rer, 

He  is  able, 
He  is  willing — doubt  no  more.'' 

Between  sixty  and  seventy  penitents  came  to  the  altar.  The 
services  continued  till  a  late  hour,  and  many  were  converted,  and 
the  shouts  of  victory  were  heard  afar. 

The  next  night  Havens  conducted  the  services  back  at  the  old 
altar.  Said  he  :  "  I'he  Devil  expects  us  to  fight  him  up  yonder  where 
we  did  last  night,  but  we  will  take  him  by  surprise  again." 

Havens's  Hterary  advantages  were  poor,  but  he  was  a  great  reader, 
and  was  well  informed  on  all  the  current  topics  of  the  day,  as  well  as 
general  literature,  and  was  an  able  defender  of  the  doctrines  of 
Christianity.  He  proclaimed  Gospel  truth  and  declaimed  against  sin 
equal  to  any  man  of  his  day. 

During  the  years  of  Edward  R.  Ames's  Presiding  Eldership  in 
Indiana,  extending  through  a  period  of  twelve  years  or  more,  he  was  a 
prince  among  camp-meeting  preachers.  In  person,  above  the  average 
in  size,  dignified  and  cultured  in  his  bearing,  easy  in  all  his  move- 
ments ;  in  the  enjoyment  of  perfect  health,  possessing  a  strong,  though 
not  very  musical  voice — ^yet  one  of  great  flexibility  and  compass,  and 
well  adapted  to  out  door  preaching.  His  camp-meeting  sermons  on  the 
Crreencastle,  New  Albany,  Indianapolis  and  Jeffersonville  Districts  did 
much  to  advance  the  cause  of  Christianity.  He  handled  the  great 
problems  of  theology  and  the  current  topics  of  the  day  with  ability  and 
force  ;  and  during  his  ministry  in  Indiana  he  was  not  only  successful 
in  promoting  the  spiritual  interests  of  the  Church,  but  he  took  broad 
and  statesmanlike  views  of  all  public  interests,  and  did  much  to  en- 
courage education  and  develop  a  spirit  of  Christian  benevolence. 
Many  of  his  camp-meeting  sermons  were  specimens  of  a  high  order  of 
forensic  eloquence. 

The  physical  phenomena  attending  the  early  camp-meetings  ex- 
cited much  attention  and  was  variously  commented  upon  at  the  time, 
and  demand  at  least  a  passing  notice.  The  most  common  of  these 
was  the  loss  of  muscular  power.  It  was  very  common  for  sinners  to 
fall  under  the  preaching  of  the  Word,  and  not  unfrequently  to  lay  for 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


hours  without  the  ability  to  move  a  muscle.  When  they  regained 
their  strength — or  came  to,  as  the  phrase  was — they  generally  came  to, 
shouting  and  praising  God  for  His  pardoning  mercy,  and  continued  to 
give  evidence  of  genuine  conversion.  Sometimes  Christians  lay  in  the 
same  condition  for  hours,  and,  on  reg^ning  their  strength,  usually 
shouted  the  praises  of  God  aloud.  Leaping,  literally  jumping,  over  the 
benches,  and  continuing  to  jump  until  their  strength  was  exhausted, 
clapping  their  hands  and  praising  God  with  a  loud  voice  were  of  very 
frequent  occurrence. 

In  the  great  revival  in  Kentucky,  in  the  early  part  of  the  century, 
the  people  were  exercised  with  what  was  known  as  "the  jerks."  They 
would  be  taken  with  a  twitching  and  jerking  of  their  muscles  and  limbs 
in  an  uncontrollable  manner.  For  instance,  a  lady's  head  would  be- 
gin to  jerk,  presently  her  bonnet  would  fly  off,  then  her  combs  would 
fly  out  of  her  hair,  then  her  head  would  jerk  back  until  her  hair  would 
straighten  out  and  crack  like  a  whip  lash.  These  exercises  were  con-^ 
fined  to  neither  sex,  and  not  exclusively  to  any  phase  of  Christian  ex- 
perience. They  were  most  common  among  those  who  were  just 
awakened  to  a  sense  of  their  sinfulness.  But  persons  of  undoubted 
Christian  character  were  sometimes  subject  to  them ;  and  persons  who 
resisted  their  convictions  and  continued  in  sin  often  had  the  jerks,  but 
only  when  under  strong  religious  influences.  The  jerks  were  chiefly 
confined  to  the  "New  Lights"  but  occasionally  appeared  in  Method- 
ist meetings. 

These  physical  manifestations  were  doubtless  the  result  of  deep 
emotion  and  a  state  of  high  nervous  excitement.  Persons  who  had 
never  been  trained  religiously,  to  whom  the  truths  of  religion  came 
with  the  freshness  and  power  of  a  rmv  revelation,  and  who  had  not  been 
accustomed  to  rigid  self-control  of  their  emotions,  yielded  unresistingly 
to  the  new  and  strange  power  which  they  felt  to  be  upon  them.  Others 
were  affected  sympathetically,  for  feelings  are  contagious.  There  is  an 
atmosphere  of  religious  emotion  which  at  times  pervade  religious 
assemblies,  and  which  is  as  perceptable  and  distinguishable  as  that  of  a 
cold  or  hot  atmosphere. 

These  physical  manifestations,  whether  seen  in  the  loss  of  muscu- 
lar power,  or  hi  jumping,  shouting,  clapping  of  the  hands,  or  jerking, 
were  no  essential  part  of  Christian  experience.  They  constituted  no 
standard  of  Christian  attainment,  and  whether  they  resulted  from  the 
impressability  of  their  natures,  from  nervous  sympathy,  or  from  the  ab- 
sence of  the  habit  of  self-government  and  control,  we  leave  each  to 
judge. 


34 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


Such  physical  manifestations  are  rare  in  communities  that  have 
grown  up  under  the  influence  of  rehgious  truth,  and  where  people 
have  been  educated  to  control  their  emotions,  instead  of  yielding  a 
loose  rein  to  them.  But  in  the  most  cultured  communities,  and  among 
those  best  trained  to  self-control,  the  Gospel  produces  conviction  for  sin 
and  such  a  discovery  of  the  vileness  of  our  nature  as  causes  men  to 
loath  themselves  as  unclean,  and  earnestly  seek  the  fountain  of  cleans- 
ing. The  spirit  does  witness  with  our  consciousness  to  the  rising  of 
the  new  creation  in  all  the  elements  of  a  spiritual  Eden,  where  the  fruits 
of  the  spirit,  like  trees  of  righteousness  and  plants  of  the  Lord's  right 
hand  planting,  flourish  in  perpetual  beauty  and  fragrance. 

The  Gospel  is  still  the  power  of  God  and  "the  wisdom  of,  unto  sal- 
vation to  every  one  that  believeth." 


0ONFUeiUS  AND  SOLOMON. 


A  LECTURIS  DEI.IVKRED  AT  THE  ACTON  LECTURK  COURSEj-  Bf 

WILL  CUMBACK,  LL.  D., 

August  3,  i88i. 


Confucius  may  be  justly  regarded  as  the  founder  of  the  peculiaf 
civilization  of  the  Chinese.  His  voluminous  writings  bear  the  same  re- 
lation to  the  Chinese  that  the  Bible  does  to  the  believers  in  Christianity. 
His  disciples  number  more  than  one-fourth  of  the  human  race.  The 
Confucian  code  is  accepted  by  more  than  ten  times  as  many  people 
as  constitute  the  population  of  the  United  States.  By  the  most  of 
his  followers  he  is  deified.  One  of  his  most  learned  disciples  thus 
eulogizes  him:  '"Confucius  handed  down  the  doctrines  of  Yaon  and 
Shin  as  if  they  had  been  his  ancestors,  and  elegantly  displayed  the 
regulations  of  Wan  and  Woo,  taking  them  as  his  models.  Above  he 
harmonized  the  times  of  Heaven,  and  below  he  was  confined  to  the 
water  and  the  land.  He  may  be  compared  to  Heaven  and  earth  in 
their  supporting  and  containing — their  overshadowing  and  containing 
all  things.  He  may  be  compared  to  the  four  seasons  in  their  alternating 
progress,  and  to  the  sun  and  moon  in  their  successive  shining.  All 
embracing  and  vast,  he  is  like  Heaven.  Deep  and  active  as  a  fountain, 
he  is  like  an  abyss.  He  is  seen,  and  all  the  people  reverence  him  ;  he 
speaks,  and  the  people  all  believe  him ;  he  acts,  and  all  the  people 
are  pleased  with  him.  Therefore,  his  fame  overspreads  the  middle 
kingdom  and  extends  to  all  barbarous  tribes.  Wherever  ship  and 
carriage  reach,  wherever  the  strength  of  man  penetrates,  wherever  the 
Heavens  overshadows  an^  the  earth  sustains,  wherever  the  sun  and 
moon  shine,  wherever  frosts  and  dews  fall,  all  who  have  blood  and 
breath  unfeignedly  honor  and  love  him.  Hence  it  is  said  he  is 
the  equal  of  Heaven.  Call  him  man  in  his  ideal,  how  earnest  is  he  ! 
Call  him  an  abyss,  how  deep  is  he  !   Call  him  Heaven,  how  vast  is  he  1 


36 


Acton  lectures. 


Who  can  know  him  but  he  who  is  indeed  quick  in  apprehension,  clear 
in  discernment  of  far-reaching  intelligence  and  all-embracing  knowl- 
edge passing  Heavenly  virtue  ?  " 

In  the  sacrificial  ritual  of  the  Chinese  there  may  be  found  a  short 
account  of  the  life  of  this  wonderful  personage.  This  ritual  closes  with 
these  words  :  "Confucius!  Confucius!  How  great  is  Confucius !  Be- 
fore Confucius  there  never  was  a  Confucius!  Since  Confucius  there 
has  never  been  a  Confucius  I  Confucius!  Confucius!  How  great  is 
Confucius !  " 

Many  more  such  extracts  could  be  given  of  the  same  character, 
showing  the  depth  of  the  adoration  of  his  numerous  disciples ;  but  this 
will  suffice  for  the  point.  It  might  be  proper  to  add  that,  although 
twenty-three  centuries  have  passed  since  this  wonderful  man  lived,  and 
during  that  time  many  an  ambitious  leader  has  arisen,  and  for  a  time 
flourished  and  is  now  forgotten,  yet  there  is  no  abatement  of  zeal  of  his 
followers.  The  peaceful  valley  where  he  died  has  been  for  all  time 
since  then,  and  is  now,  a  sacred  spot,  a  resort,  a  place  of  pilgrimage 
for  the  learned  and  superstitious. 

More  than  two  hundred  years  ago,  when  seventy-four  generations 
had  passed  away  since  his  death,  there  were  twelve  thousand  of  his  de- 
scendants who  bore  his  name.  There  are  over  forty  thousand  now. 
It  is  an  honor  that  gives  them  all  high  rank  among  the  people  and  ex- 
empts them  from  taxation.  Over  sixteen  hundred  temples  are  dedi- 
cated to  him,  and  annually  over  sixty  thousand  animals  are  immolated 
on  the  altars  of  sacrifice  to  the  memory  of  the  great  philosopher.  His 
voluminous  writings  are  committed  to  memory  by  thousands  of  his 
followers  so  perfectly  that  if  every  book  of  all  his  works  were  destroyed 
they  could  all  be  restored  from  the  memories  of  his  disciples,  word  for 
word. 

Confucius  was  in  the  height  and  zenith  of  his  glory  about  five 
hundred  years  before  Christ.  His  ethical  writings  are  the  wonder  of  the 
world,  when  the  age  in  which  they  were  written  and  the  opportunities 
he  had  are  taken  into  consideration.  The  infidel  writers,  especially 
those  of  France,  have  gone  wild  in  their  admiration  and  eulogium  of 
his  proverbs,  and  have  boldly  asserted  that  they  excel  in  wisdom  those 
of  Solomon,  and  go  so  far  as  to  declare  that  the  teachings  of  Jesus 
are  but  a  repetition  of  the  maxims  of  Confucius. 

The  appreciation  of  the  maxims  of  the  great  philosopher  and  the 
depreciation  of  the  proverbs  of  Solomon  is  one  of  the  modern  modes  of 
warfare  of  the  skeptic  in  his  assault  on  the  Bible  as  an  inspired  book.  f 
Let  us  briefly  compare  these  men  and  their  writings. 

Both  of  them  were  of  distinguished  parentage. 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


37 


Confucius  was  the  son  of  the  Prime  Minister  of  the  kingdom  of 

Loo. 

Solomon  was  the  son  of  the  great  warrior  king  and  sweet  singer  of 
Israel.  Solomon  was  the  ruling  monarch  of  Israel,  and  by  his  wisdom 
and  the  splendor  of  his  court  was  the  wonder  of  the  surrounding  na- 
tions a  little  more  than  one  thousand  years  before  Christ  was  born. 
Solomon,  therefore,  preceded  Confucius  more  than  five  hundred  years. 

Both  of  them  were  animated  with  the  same  ambition  to  stand  in 
the  very  front  rank  with  the  wisest  men  of  their  times.  Both  of  dis- 
tinguished parentage,  were  alike  determined  to  add  to  the  glory  they 
inherited  the  grander  fame  of  great  personal  achievements. 

Confucius  rejected  all  idea  of  a  divine  revelation,  and  groped  his 
way  along  without  the  Hght  of  the. word  of  God. 

Solomon  went  to  the  Lord  and  asked  not  for  long  life  or  riches, 
but  prayed  for  Divine  help  in  searching  for  wisdom. 

Confucius  lived  in  a  land  where  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  God 
had  never  penetrated  the  darkness  and  gloom  of  heathenism  all  around 
him. 

Solomon  was  the  great  and  wise  king  of  the  very  nation  which  had 
been  so  miraculously  preserved  by  the  interposition  of  the  Almighty, 
and  who  had  in  past  times  given  to  the  leaders  and  rulers  the  laws  for 
the  government  of  the  people,  and  whom  He  intended  to  honor  by 
making  one  born  of  that  nation  to  be  the  Savior  and  Redeemer  for  all 
mankind. 

The  writings  of  Solomon,  therefore,  in  all  things  recognized  God 
and  the  future  life,  while  those  of  Confucius  were  confined  to  the  nar- 
row circle  of  human  life  and  the  duties  and  obligations  arising  from 
man's  relation  to  his  fellow  man. 

It  is  true  that  Solomon  also  discoursed  largely  on  all  the  relations 
of  life.  In  his  proverbs  may  be  found  the  purest  ethics,  the  grandest 
poetry,  the  profoundest  philosophy.  It  discloses  him  to  have  been  a 
great  statesman,  a  wise  king  and  law-giver.  His  pen  has  written  him 
on  the  imperishable  pages  of  Divine  history  as  a  philosopher,  a  states- 
man, a  poet  and  a  sage.  He  not  only  advocated  the  right  for  its  own 
sake,  but  he  also,  with  the  authority  of  one  inspired,  proclaimed  what 
God  required  of  men. 

The  ethics  of  Confucius  is  the  production  of  a  great  mind  unaided 
by  any  true  conception  of  divinity,  while  that  of  Solomon,  written 
more  than  five  hundred  years  before,  rises  so  far  above  him  in  moral 
grandeur  as  to  compel  mankind  to  recognize  therein  the  utterings  of 
the  omnicient  and  infinite. 

Solomon  announces  in  the  very  beginning  of  his  Book  of  Proverbs 
^hat  "The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom." 


38 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


Confucius  commences  his  book  of  maxims,  put  in  the  form  of  a 
question  :  "Is  he  not  a  man  of  perfect  virtue  who  feels  no  discompos- 
ure, though  men  may  take  no  note  of  him  ? 

These  two  maxims  may  justly  be  taken  as  key  notes  of  the  writings 
of  these  great  men.  The  one  lifts  man  up  to  the  consideration  of  the 
grandeur  and  immortality  of  his  being  and  existence  ;  the  other  makes 
perfect  virtue  to  be  a  placid  state  of  mind  in  which  stupidity  is  the  most 
prominent  feature.  This  will  be  found  to  be  true  all  through  the  max- 
ims of  these  great  proverb  writers. 

While  in  the  Proverbs  of  Solomon  it  is  sounded  out  loud  and  clear 
that  God  is  the  father  of  us  all,  and  that  we  are  all  bound,  for  his  sake 
and  in  obedience  to  his  command,  to  love,  cherish  and  protect  each 
other,  in  the  maxims  of  the  Chinese  philosopher  the  practice  of  virtue 
is  urged  because  of  the  good  that  will  come  to  him  who  practices  it. 
The  one  inculcates  the  higher  love  to  God  and  man  ;  the  other  makes 
an  appeal  to  the  selfishness  of  human  nature  as  an  incentive  to  virtuous 
actions.  The  one  teaches  an  active  principle  of  good,  conveying 
blessings  to  all  around,  while  the  other  simply  enjoins  a  mere  passive 
or  negative  condition  of  the  human  mmd.  The  one  looks  to  the  good 
of  others,  and  the  other  to  what  is  best  for  self. 

It  would  not  be  just  or  honest  to  say  that  the  whole  code  of  Con- 
fucius is  as  narrow  as  human  selfishness,  for  in  his  teachmgs  we  find 
many  noble  and  generous  things  that  cannot  be  too  much  commended, 
yet  he  did  recognize  selfishness  as  the  main-spring  and  motive  power 
of  human  action. 

The  writings  of  Solomon  were  the  exact  reverse  in  this  regard.  In 
corroboration  of  this  view  of  the  case  let  us  take  two  statements  that 
these  great  waiters  have  made  on  the  same  subject— a  subject  that 
seems  to  have  engrossed  the  profoundest  consideration  of  both.  I 
mean  the  correct  conduct  of  human  life. 

Confucius  says :  ''To  be  able  to  practice  five  things  constitutes 
perfect  virtue."  When  asked  what  these  five  things  were,  he  said : 
Gravity,  generosity  of  soul,  sincerity,  earnestness  and  kindness.''  As  a 
reason  for  the  practice  of  these  five  essential  things,  he  says  :  'Mf  you 
are  grave,  you  will  be  treated  with  respect.  If  you  are  generous,  you 
will  win  all.  If  you  are  sincere,  people  will  repose  trust  in  you.  If 
you  are  earnest,  you  will  accomplish  much.  If  you  are  kind,  this  will 
enable  you  to  e7?iploy  the  service  of  others.'' 

Had  he  been  content  to  merely  state  the  elements  that  compose 
perfect  vertue,  his  case  would  have  been  stronger.  He  weakened  it  by 
giving  the  reasons,  and  in  that  it  must  be  regarded  that  in  so  doing  he 
gives  us  the  animus  of  his  phylosophy.    Perfect  virtue,  according  ta 

/ 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


39 


this  Confucian  code,  has  its  foundation  and  origin  in  human  selfish- 
ness, and  to  that,  and  that  alone,  he  makes  his  appeal  in  urging  its 
claim.s  on  his  followers. 

To  practice  his  five  things,  good  as  they  are,  no  reason  is  given 
that  in  doing  so  the  good  of  others  will  be  promoted.  This  is  not  even 
hinted  at.  The  whole  argument  is  as  narrow  as  human  selfi-shness 
would  desire  it  to  be.  He  promises  to  pay  heavy  dividends  of  per- 
sonal benefits  to  all  who  will  invest  in  his  scheme  of  perfect  virtue.  He 
says:  "When  one  gives  few  occasions  for  blame  in  his  words,  and 
few  occasions  for  repentance  in  his  conduct,  he  is  in  the  way  to  get 
emolument."  He  thus  commends  his  philosophy  on  the  ground  that 
it  will  pay.  No  higher  or  broader  ground  is  mentioned.  Even  gen- 
erosity is  commended  not  because  its  practice  will  scatter  happiness  all 
around  and  make  mankind  better,  and  life  sweeter,  and  existence  more 
tolerable,  but  because,  by  so  doing,  it  will  win  others  to  your  interest, 
and  will  pay  cash  down  for  all  you  invest  in  it.  Kindness  is  recom- 
mended because  by  it  you  can  attach  others  to  your  service,  and  thus 
promote  your  own  interest  and  make  more  headway  in  the  world. 

It  might  be  proper  to  remark  right  here  that  this  idea  of  perfect 
virtue  prevails  to  some  extent  in  this  Christian  land.  The  practice  of 
just  the  amount  of  virtue  that  will  pay  good  dividends  in  duty  dollars 
or  personal  aggrandizement  is,  by  no  means,  confined  to  the  "Heathen 
Chinee."  It  must  be  confessed  that,  while  we  claim  to  believe  Solo- 
mon, not  a  few  follow  Confucius  in  this  regard. 

In  contrast  with  the  five  things  and  reasons  given  for  them  by 
Confucius,  to  make  a  man  perfect,  let  us  hear  a  kindred  declaration  of 
Solomon.  He  says  :  "  These  six  things  doth  the  Lord  hate,  yea  seven 
are  an  abomination  unto  the  Lord:  A  proud  look,  a  lying  tongue  and 
hands  that  shed  innocent  blood ;  an  heart  that  deviseth  wicked  imagin- 
ation, feet  that  be  swift  in  running  into  mischief ;  a  false  witness  that 
speaketh  lies,  and  him  that  soweth  discord  among  brethren." 

In  the  above  seven  things  that  wise  king  said  were  abhorrent  to 
the  Lord,  it  is  manifest  that  their  practice  is  condemned  for  the  reason 
that  such  evils  are  against  the  general  welfare.  For  this  reason  these 
practices  are  denounced.  The  requirement  is  made  that  these  things 
shall  be  avoided  on  the  higher  and  broader  ground  that  the  general 
good  requires  it.  No  mention  is  here  made  that  the  man  who  observes 
these  precepts  and  obeys  them  will  have  personal  gain  by  so  doing. 
It  was  deemed  sufiicient  that  others  would  be  the  losers,  and  for  this 
reason  he  must  obey. 

W e  cannot  fail  to  observe  that  in  these  seven  things  that  Solomon 
says  are  so  hateful  to  God,  that  a  majority  of  them  are  against  lying 


40 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


and  slander.  All  through  the  Book  of  Proverbs  of  Solomon  we  can 
find  the  most  terrible  denunciation  of  the  liar  and  backbiter.  He 
seemed  to  hold  these  sins  in  special  abhorrence,  and  to  regard  all  those 
who  were  guilty  of  them  as  being  very  detestable  in  the  sight  of  a  kind 
and  loving  Father.  Not  only  is  the  life  of  others  to  be  regarded  as 
sacred  in  Solomon" s  code,  but  their  character  and  reputation  is  to  be 
equally  free  from  assault.  The  slanderer  and  the  murderer  are  alike 
hateful  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  are  put  in  the  same  category.  Man- 
kind are  not  promised  personal  reward  if  they  will  not  shed  the  blood 
of  others  or  slaughter  their  good  name.  The  good  of  society  demands 
their  obedience  to  the  laws  of  right. 

The  eulogists  of  the  Confucian  code,  while  they  may  agree  that 
the  great  philosopher  in  all  cases  did  not  place  the  practice  of  virtue  on 
the  proper  ground,  yet  it  is  insisted  that  the  code  itself  contains  the 
purest  morality,  and  that  its  practice  will  work  as  great,  if  not  greater, 
reformation  on  society  than  the  observance  of  the  proverbs  of  Solo- 
mon. This  position  cannot  be  maintained.  Many  of  the  maxims  of 
Confucius  are  positively  bad  and  vicious,  and  must  be  condemned  by 
the  moral  sense  of  mankind.  They  positively  uphold  and  sustain  what 
the  civilized  world  would  pronounce  to  ,be  evil,  without  any  help  to 
reach  such  conclusion  from  Divine  revelation. 

It  is  said  that  the  Duke  of  Stiea,  one  of  the  provmces  of  China, 
once  went  to  Confucius  for  counsel  and  advice,  and  told  the  philoso- 
pher that  in  his  part  of  the  country  there  were  those  so  upright  that  if 
the  father  had  stolen  a  sheep,  the  son  would  bear  witness  to  the  fact. 
Confucius  replied  :  "Among  us,  in  our  part  of  the  country,  those  who 
are  upright  are  different  from  this.  The  father  conceals  the  miscon- 
duct of  the  son,  and  the  son  the  misconduct  of  the  father.  Uprightness 
is  to  be  found  in  t/iis.''  From  time  immemorial  the  sheep-thief  has 
been  regarded  as  the  meanest  of  thieves,  so  that  "as  mean  as  a  sheep- 
thief"  has  become  one  of  the  sayings  of  the  world;  yet  this  great  teach- 
er lays  down  the  principle  for  the  acceptance  of  his  followers,  that 
even  this  crime  must  not  be  exposed  if  the  witness  has  to  bear  testi- 
mony against  a  relative — that  uprightness  consists,  in  all  such  cases, 
in  concealing  the  crime  and  protecting  the  criminal.  His  code  of 
morals — if  it  may  be  so  called — was  not  even  and  well  adjusted.  It 
was  not  consistent  with  itself.  It  does  not  contain  the  elements  of  pos- 
itive, active  virtue.  It  is  a  fact  in  the  history  of  the  Chinese  that  such 
is  their  character — selfish,  cunning  and  deceitful,  they  fairly  reflect  in 
their  meanness  the  points  of  the  code  from  which  they  find  the  rules 
for  their  conduct  of  life. 

Let  us  take  another  of  the  sayings  of  Confucius.    In  speaking  of 


ACTON   LECTURES.  4 1 

the  character  of  Huey,  who  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  notables  in 
China,  Confucius  said:  ''Admirable,  indeed,  was  the  virtue  of  Huey. 
With  a  single  bamboo  dish  of  rice,  a  single  gourd  dish  of  drink,  and 
living  in  his  mean  narrow  lane,  while  others  could  not  have  endured  the 
distress,  he  did  not  allow  his  joy  to  be  affected  by  it.  Admirable,  indeed, 
is  the  virtue  of  Huey. "  Who  this  model  of  perfection  was,  or  what  other 
characteristics  he  had  to  challenge  such  admiration  and  eulogy,  we 
know  not.  The  thing  that  seems  to  call  out  the  praise  of  Confucius 
was  that  his  hero,  without  sufficient  food  or  shelter,  could  live  in  the 
dirt  like  a  hog  and  be  happy.  We  are  at  liberty  to  suppose  that  this 
pink  of  perfection  was  a  lazy  loafer,  too  indolent  to  work  for  suffi- 
cient food — a  kind  of  unwashed  dead-beat,  who  had  not  sufficient  en- 
ergy to  be  a  tramp,  and,  content  in  his  filth,  was  as  jolly  as  Mark  Tap- 
ley. 

That  this  dirty  model  has  millions  of  followers  in  China  the  history 
of  that  country  and  the  specimens  who  come  to  our  shores  furnish  con- 
clusive evidence.  Confucius  has  made  virtue  cheap — as  cheap  as  dirt. 
The  Chinese  being  the  earnest  and  sincere  followers  of  Confucius, 
their  civilization  and  condition  in  this  regard  are  fair  types  of  his  phi- 
losophy. It  seems  to  us  a  strange  sort  of  moral  philosophy  that  the 
sweet  flowers  of  virtue  may  be  best  cultivated  in  the  soil  of  filth  and 
indolence.  Solomon  says :  ''Seest  thou  a  man  dilligent  in  busmess, 
he  shall  stand  before  kings.     He  shall  not  stand  before  mean  men." 

As  a  people,  the  Chinese  are  avaricious.  In  this  they  follow  the 
teachings  of  their  master.  In  the  biography  of  this  great  philosopher 
it  is  said  that  at  one  time  he  went  to  dispense  wisdom  to  the  people  of 
the  kingdom  of  Wei.  Yen  Yew  acted  as  the  driver  of  his  carriage. 
While  on  the  way,  the  sage  asked  Yen  Yew  :  "  How  numerous  are 
the  people  of  this  kingdom?  "  and  when  told  that  they  were  very  nu- 
merous. Yen  Yew  asked  that  since  they  were  thus  numerous,  what 
more  shall  be  done  for  them?  ''Enrich  them"  was  the  reply  of  Confu- 
cius. "And  what  more  shall  be  done  after  they  are  enriched?"  was 
the  next  question  put  to  the  sage.  "Teach  them"  was  the  reply  of 
Confucius.  It  must  be  constantly  borne  in  mind  that  all  these  sayings 
are  like  Holy  Writ  to  the  devotees  of  this  great  leader.  Whatever  he 
did  say  they  make  the  rule  of  their  lives.  Riches  first  and  intelligence 
afterward.  Riches  before  righteousness,  before  justice.  This  is  the 
model  code  that  infidel  philosophy  presents  to  the  world  for  man's  ac- 
ceptance in  the  place  of  the  teachings  of  Solomon,  and  the  words  of 
him  who  spoke  as  never  man  spake. 

Hear  Solomon :  "A  good  name  is  rather  to  be  chosen  than  great 
riches."    "The  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together;  the  Lord  is  the 


42 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


Maker  of  thenr  all.  "  By  humility  and  the  fear  of  the  Lord  are  riches 
and  honor,  and  hfe."  "Better  is  the  poor  that  walketh  in  his  integrity 
than  he  that  is  perverse  in  his  way,  though  he  be  rich.'' 

It  will  scarcely  be  questioned  that  in  all  places  and  in  every  con- 
dition and  degree  of  progress  and  civilization,  the  mercenary  spirit  has 
ever  been  found  to  be  the  chief  hindering  cause  to  the  elevation  and 
improvement  of  the  human  race.  It  is  so  in  all  Christian  countries 
where  the  Bible  is  read  and  believed.  If  this  evil  spirit  is  found  so 
formidable  among  people  whose  religion  condemns  it,  how  much  more 
powerful  must  it  be  for  evil  under  a  system  that  fosters  and  encour- 
ages it. 

On  the  subject  of  parental  authority,  Confucius  was  almost,  if  not 
quite,  a  monomaniac.  Absolute  and  unqualified  submission  to 
parents  was  his  hobby,  and  connected  with  that,  and  as  a  corroUary  to 
it,  he  inculcated  the  most  slavish  submission  to  superiors.  It  will  be 
found  in  his  writings  that,  after"  discoursing  most  voluminously  on  the 
different  sorts  of  crime  and  the  proper  penalty  due  to  each  offense,  and 
after  classifying  and  enumerating  them,  he  lays  down  this  maxim  as  a 
well-considered  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter:  -'Of  the  three  thou- 
sand crimes  included  under  the  five  kinds  of  punishment,  there  is 
none  greater  than  disobedience  to  parents.'"'  In  all  cases  it  was  the 
absolute  right  of  the  parent  to  command,  and  the  imperative  duty  of 
the  child  to  obey.  To  this  rule  there  was  no  exception.  It  did  not 
altar  the  case  that  the  son  had  reached  mature  manhood  and  the  mind 
of  the  parent  had  been  enfeebled  by  age  or  disease.  The  wickedness 
of  the  order  of  the  father,  a  command  at  variance  with  all  sense  of 
right  or  decency  did  not  modify  the  rule.  Rebellion  against  parental 
authority  in  any  case  was,  in  his  mind,  the  darkest  of  crimes,  and 
could  not,  under  any  circumstances,  be  tolerated.  IVj  prevent  the  ex- 
excise  of  private  judgment  on  the  part  of  the  son,  and  to  make  the  rule 
absolute,  he  made  this  declaration  :  "  When  his  parents  are  in  error, 
the  son,  with  an  humble  spirit,  a  pleasing  countenance  and  a  gentle 
tone  must  point  out  the  error  to  them.  If  they  do  not  receive  his  re- 
proof, he  must  strive  more  and  more  to  be  dutiful  to  them  and  respect- 
ful toward  them  until  they  are  pleased,  and  then  he  must  again  point 
out  the  error.  If  a  son,  in  performing  his  duty  to  his  parents,  has 
thrice  endeavored  to  correct  them  without  their  listening  to  him,  then, 
weeping  and  lamenting,  he  ninsi follow  their  commands.'' 

To  further  show  how  absolute  was  the  authority  of  the  father  over 
the  son,  allow  me  to  quote  from  his  sacred  book  of  poetry,  in  which 
he  often  recurs  to  this  subject.  In  that  book  he  teaches  by  questions 
and  answers.    He  asks  this  question:    'Tn  marrying  a  wife,  how 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


43 


ought  a  man  to  proceed?"'  His  answer  is:  "He  must  consult  his 
parents."  If  the  father  consented  to  the  marriage  of  the  son,  he  could 
marry  ;  if  he  refused,  then  he  dare  not  disobey.  If  the  father  agreed 
to  the  marriage  of  the  son,  the  son  was  not  ])ermitted  to  go  in  searcli 
of  a  wife  congenial  to  his  taste,  or  in  ac  cordance  with  his  notions  of 
what  constituted  female  beauty  and  accomplishments.  That  whole 
business  was  done  by  the  father.  It  is  the  rule  yet  in  China.  The 
bridegroom  is  never  permitted  to  see  his  bride  until  after  they  iire 
married. 

While  the  Chinese  have  made  a  great  many  wonderful  and  beauti- 
tiful  fabrics,  and  have  constructed  the  most  elaborate  and  intricate 
specimens  of  mechanism  that  have  puzzled  the  whole  world,  they  are 
not  permitted,  under  their  code,  to  engage  in  that  delightful,  yet  dif- 
ficult business  oi  making  love.  The  iron  code  of  Confucius  on  the  sub- 
ject of  parental  authority  has  been  so  rigidly  enforced  that  the  manu- 
facture of  this  precious  article  by  the  boys  and  girls  is  strictly  forbidden 
and  prevented. 

It  is,  indeed,  a  sad  thing  to  consider,  when  we  are  brought  face  to 
face  with  the  fact  that  all  the  many  believers  of  Confucius — more  than 
one-fourth  of  the  whole  human  race — of  all  that  are  now  living,  and  of 
all  those  who  have  died  in  the  last  twenty  odd  centuries,  not  one  man 
of  all  that  coundess  throng  has  ever  had  the  sweet  experience  of  court- 
ing the  girls.  In  our  civilization,  that  most  delightful  portion  of  our 
life's  experience  is  the  last  to  depart  from  our  memories,  and  in  the 
evening  of  life  is  most  frequently  recalled.  When  the  weight  of  many 
years,  and  the  numerous  sorrows  of  life  so  press  us  down  as  to  make 
even  the  grave  look  inviting,  then  these  sweet  memories  of  our  youth 
come  again  to  cheer  and  brighten  the  .winter  of  old  age,  and,  for  a 
time  the  recollection  of  these  joys  chase  away  the  griefs  that  in  later 
life  fasten  themselves  to  our  life's  experience.  These  tender  remem- 
brances not  only  cheer  old  age,  but  they  soften  the  withered  hearts, 
and  fill  them  with  love  and  charity  for  the  young.  Without  it,  the 
old  age  of  the  Chinese  must  be  cheerless  and  gloomy. 

This  brings  us  to  consider  one  of  the  most  fatal  defects  in  the 
whale  Confucian  system.  I'he  great  philosopher  took  no  account  of  wo- 
man. She  was  nothing  in  his  estimation.  Not  only  was  this  his  theo- 
ry, but  he  put  it  into  practice  by  abandoning  his  wife  and  child  because 
they  diverted  his  mind  from  his  studies.  As  a  result,  women  in  China 
are  but  little  more  than  chatties.  They  are  the  slaves  of  the  men.  The 
girls  are  sold  to  those  who  are  looking  for  wives  for  their  sons.  To 
have  a  large  family  of  handsome  and  accomplished  daughters  is  a 
source  of  great  profit  to  the  father.    He  disposes  of  his  fine  stock  to 


44 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


those  who  will  bid  the  most  for  them.  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  a 
single  word  of  condemnation  in  all  the  fine  philosophy  of  Confucius 
against  this  brutality — not  one  word. 

Low,  indeed,  is  the  type  of  civilization  that  excludes  the  wives 
and  mothers  from  all  social  position.  Blunted  must  be  the  moral  sense 
of  a  people  who  treat  women  with  no  more  consideration  than  they  do 
animals.  Yet  such  is  the  civilization  of  China.  Women  have  no  so- 
cial position  there.  They  are  not  allowed  to  attend  the  theater  or  any 
other  public  assemblage.  Even  among  the  best  and  most  polished  in 
Chinese  society,  women  are  not,  in  any  sense,  regarded  as  the  equal 
of  men,  nor  is  she  permitted  to  enjoy  with  him  even  the  society  of 
their  own  home. 

When  a  manderin  gives  an  entertainment  to  his  friends,  his  wife 
or  wives,  as  the  case  may  be,  may  be  permitted  to  invite  a  few  of  her 
female  friends  to  witness  the  games  and  revelry  of  the  men  from  a  lat- 
tice gallery.  Neither  the  wives  nor  the  friends  invited  are  allowed 
any  other  participation  in  the  festivities.  F^ven  this  much  is  regarded 
as  a  great  condescension  and  concession  to  the  women. 

In  order  to  a  fuller  and  clearer  appreciation  of  the  point  here 
made  against  the  Confucian  system,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  he 
undertook  to  discourse  on  the  whole  round  of  duties  and  obligations  of 
human  life.  Ethics  was  his  principal  theme.  He  pointed  out  the 
remedy  for  abuses  in  society  and  to  reform  the  civil  government.  With 
the  greatest  particularity  he  made  and  proclaimed  rules  to  meet  every 
condition  of  man,  communities  and  states.  He  not  only  laid  down 
the  law  for  sovereigns  and  rulers — the  treatment  due  the  governed, 
and  the  duty  and  conduct  of  the  governed — but  he  enters  the  family 
circle,  and,  with  tedious  particularity,  tells  what  the  child  must  be 
taught  at  this  age,  and  then  what  it  must  learn  when  it  is  a  year  older, 
the  kind  of  garments  they  must  wear  and  how  they  must  be  made. 
He  has  a  code  of  etiquette,  the  mode  and  manner  of  sacrificing,  the 
duty  of  parents,  the  obHgations  of  children — until  One  becomes  wearied 
with  its  long  drawn  out  prglixity.  He  seemed  to  fear  that  he  would 
omit  something  that  would  leave  the  world  in  doubt  as  to  what  should 
be  done  in  some  new  relation  that  might  arise  in  the  various  phases  of 
life. 

Being  a  sage  and  counsellor,  in  his  later  life  we  find  him  visited 
from  all  parts  of  the  Chinese  Empire  by  those  who  had  heard  of  his 
wisdom,  asking  him  all  manner  of  questions  covering  every  conceiva- 
ble case  or  condition  in  human  life.  To  all  these  questions,  many  of 
which  were  very  shallow,  he  gave  his  answers  with  all  the  pomp  and 
circumstance  of  an  oracle.    All  of  his  replies  to  these  interrogatories, 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


45 


whether  they  were  wise  or  foolish,  were  recorded  as  wise  maxims,  and 
are  to-day  a  part  of  the  proverbial  teachings  of  this  philosopher,  which 
are  like  Holy  Writ  to  the  millions  who  take  him  for  their  guide. 

But  in  all  this  vast  mass  of  ethical  law,  the  rights  of  woman  are 
entirely  ignored.  Not  a  sentence  demanding  her  elevation ;  not  a 
proverb  denouncing  the  brutality  of  man's  treatment;  not  a  word  of 
denunciation  of  the  despotism  that  made  her  a  mere  chattle  and  a 
slave.    Yet  the  evil  was  constantly  before  him. 

Even  a  generation  or  two  after  he  died  another  great  teacher  of 
the  Chinese,  and  a  most  fulsome  eulogist  of  Confucius,  gave  the  rule 
that  should  govern  the  conduct  of  the  wives.  It  is  a  most  shameful, 
one-sided  argument  in  favor  of  oppression,  and  a  peremptory  demand 
of  women  to  submit  in  all  things  to  their  husbands.  He  closes  his  ap- 
peal in  these  words  :  -'Wives,  we  cannot  but  impress  these  words  on 
your  memories.  For  the  male  to  be  firm,  and  the  female  to  be  flexi- 
ble is  what  reason  points  out  as  a  proper  rule."  "  But,"  he  adds,  ''in 
this  world  you  constantly  meet  with  a  class  of  husbands  who  foolishly 
love  and  respect  their  wives  too  much  as  if  they  were  more  honorable 
or  superior  to  themselves.  If  anything  occur,  they  are  afraid  to  go 
before  them,  and  thus  the  woman  becomes  the  roaring  lioness  of 
Hotung,  or  the  female  fowl  that  announces  the  morning." 

The  heart  sickens  and  we  turn  away  with  loathing  from  a  code  of 
ethics  so  utterly  heartless  and  inhuman.  We  become  weary  with  its 
mere  platitudes.  A  civilization  that  robs  woman  of  her  rights,  that 
banishes  her  gentle  influence  from  the  social  circle,  that  makes  one- 
half  of  the  human  family — and  that  the  best  half — mere  chatties  and 
slaves,  is  not  worthy  of  the  name.  The  degradation  of  the  wives  and 
mothers  will  have  a  terrible  reflex  influence  on  the  sons  and  husbands, 
robbing  them  of  true  manhood,  producing  a  race  of  cowards  and  pal- 
troons.  And  such  are  the  Chinese.  Their  soldiers  wear  quilted  petti- 
coats, satin  boots  and  bead  necklaces,  carry  umbrellas  and  fans,  and 
go  a  night  attack  with  lanterns  in  their  hands,  being  more  afraid  of  the 
darkness  than  of  exposing  themselves  to  the  enemy. 

We  turn,  therefore,  with  relief  and  delight  from  the  Confucian 
code  to  the  proverbs  of  Solomon.  In  the  very  conclusion  of  that  won- 
derful book,  and  as  the  climax  of  his  poetic  eloquence,  he  commends 
the  viruous  woman.  He  exalts  her  in  his  grand  and  wonderful  eulo- 
gium  as  he  does  no  other  personage  of  whom  he  discourses.  Fully 
comprehending  all  the  excellencies  of  her  nature  and  the  beauties  of 
her  character,  with  the  skill  of  an  artist  forms  them  into  a  chaplet  of 
beauty  and  with  it  crowns  her  the  queen  of  society,  demanding  for  her 
the  homage  and  admiration  of  the  world.     Such  homage  she  has 


46 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


ever  received  in  all  lands  where  the  Bible  is  the  cdde,  and  not  that  of 
Confucius. 

I  cannot  refrain  from  a  few  quotations  from  his  grand  eulogy. 
After  stating  that  the  virtuous  woman  is  of  more  priceless  value  than 
rubies,  he  says:  "The  heart  of  her  husband  doth  safely  trust  in  her. 
She  will  do  him  good  and  not  evil  all  the  days  of  her  life.  She  riseth 
while  it  is  yet  night  and  giveth  meat  to  her  household.  She  layeth  her 
hands  to  the  spindle  and  her  hands  to  the  distaff.  She  stretcheth  out 
her  hands  to  the  poor.  Yea,  she  reacheth  forth  her  hands  to  the  needy. 
She  is  not  afraid  of  the  snow  for  her  household,  for  all  her  household 
is  clothed  in  scarlet.  Her  husband  is  known  in  the  gates  when  he 
sitteth  with  the  elders  of  the  land.  Strength  and  honor  are  her  cloth- 
ing and  she  shall  rejoice  in  the  time  to  come.  She  openeth  her  mouth 
with  wisdom  and  her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness.  She  looketh  well 
to  the  ways  of  her  household  and  eateth  not  the  bread  of  idleness. 
Her  children  rise  up  and  call  her  blessed ;  her  husband,  also,  and  he 
blesseth  her." 

Had  Confucius,  in  like  manner,  exalted  woman — had  he,  when 
he  became  the  ruler  of  the  Chinese  mind,  broken  the  shackles  that 
bound  her,  and  denounced  the  tyranny  that  oppressed  her,  and  called 
her  forth  from  her  prison,  and  crowned  her  the  queen  of  the  social  cir- 
cle, invested  her  with  equal  rights  with  man,  the  higher  civilization  of 
China  'would  then  be  the  enduring  monument  to  his  glory  and  real 
greatness.  The  rank  of  his  greatness  would  have  been  as  much  higher 
as  justice  is  higher  than  oppression,  and  as  Christian  civilization  is 
above  barbarism.  That  he  did  not  do  so  is  a  matter  of  surprise 
and  regret,  for  it  must  be  confessed  that  there  is  much  in  the  maxims 
of  the  philosopher  that  show  that  he  was  animated  with  a  high  sense 
of  justice. 

His  system  of  political  ethics  and  his  code  of  morals,  imperfect  as 
they  are,  were  far  in  advance  of  his  people.  He  was,  doubtless,  the 
chief  instrument  in  lifting  the  Chinese  people  to  a  higher  plane,  and  in 
infusing  into  the  Chinese  mind  a  love  for  learning  that  has  resulted  in 
a  better  civilization  than  can  be  found  in  any  other  portion  of  eastern 
Asia. 

While  all  this  is  true,  yet  his  writings  do  not  shoAv  him  to  have 
possessed  the  elements  of  a  radical  reformer.  He  was  not  a  bold  and 
heroic  man.  His  idea  of  a  virtuous  life  was  of  a  negative  and  con- 
servative type.  He  was  manifestly  a  very  vain  man.  His  frequent 
allusions  to  himself  show  him  to  have  been  a  most  pronounced  egotist. 
He  says,  in  regard  to  himself:  "At  fifteen  I  had  my  mind  bent  on 
learning.     At  thirty  I  stood  firm.    At  forty  I  had  no  doubts.    At  fifty 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


47 


1  knew  the  decrees  of  Heaven.  At  sixty  my  ear  was  an  obedient  organ 
for  the  reception  of  the  truth.  At  seventy  I  could  follow  what  my 
heart  desired  without  transgressing  what  was  right."  His  claim  that 
he  knew  the  decrees  of  Heaven  was  a  bid  that  he  should  be  worshipped 
as  something  more  than  human — as  a  sort  of  deity.  From  one  end  to 
the  other  it  is  a  bold  and  unqualified  claim  of  his  excellence  and  God- 
like perfection. 

The  delight  with  which  he  received  the  flattery  that  was  so  boun- 
tifully bestowed  on  him  discloses  the  fact  that  he  possessed  this  frailty, 
so  common  to  mortals,  in  no  common  measure.  As  it  is  impossible 
for  an  egotist  to  become  a  great  reformer,  it  is  more  than  probable  that 
his  strong  desire  to  7'eform  his  fellow-men  was  largely  modified  by  the 
more  powerful  motive  to  be  popular.  And  while  he,  doubtless,  saw 
the  oppression  of  women  in  every  household  in  the  land — and,  from 
his  apparent  kindness  of  heart,  it  is  but  fair  to  presume  that  he  de- 
plored it — yet  it  was  an  evil,  the  correction  of  which  would  have 
wrought  a  revolution  in  every  household,  and  he  dare  not  risk  his  rep- 
utation as  a  sage  and  counsellor  in  attacking  this  popular  crime. 

In  further  corroboration  of  the  fact  that  he  was  an  exceedingly 
vain  man  and  an  unblushing  egotist,  I  may  be  permitted  to  give  a  few 
more  of  his  sayings  in  regard  to  himself.  He  says  :  "In  a  hamlet  of 
ten  families  there  may  be  found  one  as  honorable  and  sincere  as  I  am, 
but  not  so  fond  of  learning."  At  another  time  and  place  he  said: 
''After  the  death  of  King  Wan,  was  not  the  cause  ot  truth  lodged  i?i 
me  ?  If  Heaven  had  wished  to  let  the  cause  of  truth  perish  then,  /  a 
future  mortal  should  not  have  had  such  relation  to  that  cause."  Again 
he  says:  My  studies  lie  low,  but  my  penetration  rises  high."  His 
disciple,  Yen,  returning  from  the  Court,  Confucius  asked  him:  "How 
are  you  so  late?"  and  Yen  replied  :  "We  had  government  business." 
Confucius  replied:  "  It  must  have  been  family  affairs.  If  there  had 
been  government  business,  though  I  am  not  now  in  ofiice,  /should 
have  been  consulted  about  it."  We  find  all  through  his  sayings  this 
same  offensive  self-conceit.  In  his  conduct,  by  his  eccentric  bearing 
and  huge  assumptions,  he  was  constantly  making  the  effort  to  convince 
those  about  him  that  he  was  something  more  than  mortal,  and  he  could 
not  conceal  his  satisfaction  when  he  found  that  his  followers  acceded 
to  his  pretentions. 

Let  us  turn  again  to  Solomon,  and  draw  a  parallel  between  him 
and  Confucius  in  this  regard.  Solomon,  when  he  wrote  his  proverbs, 
was  the  great  king  of  a  mighty  nation,  at  a  time  when  she  was  in  the 
very  zenith  of  her  glory — a  peerless  monarch,  whose  wisdom  was  the 
magnet  that  drew  all  the  wise  men  and  philosophers  of  the  world  to  his 


48 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


capitol.  The  dazzling  splendor  of  his  court,  and  the  grandeur  and 
magnificence  that  seemed  to  gather  about  him  and  attend  him  all 
through  his  reign,  excited  the  wonder  and  envy  of  every  other  mon- 
arch of  his  time.  The  exalted  position  he  held,  and  the  honors  that 
were  conferred  upon  him,  only  served  to  make  him  more  humble. 

Not  only  did  he  have  all  the  glory  that  gathers  about  the  throne  of  a 
great  monarchy,  but  the  distinction  that  has  secured  the  immortality  of 
his  fame  was  awarded  him  to  build  a  temple,  which  was  to  be  the  ad- 
miration of  the  nation  and  the  wonder  of  the  world — a  temple  around 
which  would  gather  all  the  tribes  of  Israel  in  mass,  once  each  year,  for  the 
celebration  of  the  great  feast  of  the  passover — a  temple  which  should 
thus  be  surrounded  by  his  whole  people,  and  while  the  mighty  hosts 
sang  and  shouted  praises  to  God  for  the  deliverance  from  the  bondage 
of  Egypt,  the  great  throng  at  the  same  time  would  gratefully  remem- 
ber their  great  king,  who  had  thus  magnified  all  the  ceremonies  of  Jew- 
ish worship. 

Few  are  the  men  in  history,  either  sacred  or  profane,  who  have 
been  so  honored,  and  none  who  have  shown  such  humility  from  such 
an  exalted  position.  In  his  Book  of  Proverbs  not  a  boastful  word  can 
be  found — not  a  sentence  indicating  any  assumption  of  superiority. 
He  seemed  intent  only  on  calling  the  attention  of  his  fellow-men  to 
such  precepts  and  principles  the  practice  of  which  would  make  the 
world  better  and  their  own  lives  happier. 

In  all  his'  proverbs  we  do  not  find  the  misty  and  negative  philoso- 
phy of  Confucius,  but  a  bold  and  manly  assault  on  sin  and  iniquity 
wherever  it  might  be  found,  or  by  whom  it  might  be  practiced.  To 
call  attention  to  himself  in  the  spirit  of  self-adulation  seemed  to  be  no 
part  of  his  purpose.  In  the  Book  of  Ecclesiastes  he  speaks  of  his  high 
position,  not  in  terms  of  self-praise,  or  in  a  spirit  of  vain  glory,  but  to 
enforce  the  great  truth  that  no  mere  earthly  honors  or  pleasures  are 
sufficient  to  satisfy  the  immortal  mind  of  man.  He  frankly  admits 
that,  while  he  had  reached  the  very  topmost  round  in  the  ladder  of 
human  promotion,  that  all  earthly  greatness  was  but  vanity  and  vex- 
ation of  spirit.  He  gives  to  the  world  this  chapter  of  his  experience 
in  the  following  words  : 

"I,  the  preacher,  was  king  over  Israel  in  Jerusalem.  I  made  me 
great  works,  I  builded  me  houses,  I  planted  me  vineyards,  I  made  me 
gardens  and  orchards  and  I  planted  trees  in  them  of  all  kinds  of  fruit, 
I  made  me  pools  of  water  to  water  therewith  the  wood  that  bringeth 
forth  trees,  I  get  me  some  servants  and  maidens,  and  had  servants  born 
in  my  house  ;  also,  1  had  great  possessions  of  great  and  small  cattle, 
above  all  that  were  before  me  in  Jerusalem  ;  I  gathered  me  also  silver 


ACTON  LECTtJkES, 


49 


and  goidj  and  the  peculiar  treasure  of  kings  and  of  provinces ;  1  got 
me  men  singers  and  women  singers^  and  the  delights  of  sons  of  men  as 
musical  instruments,  and  that  of  all  sortS;  So  I  was  great,  and  in- 
creased more  than  all  that  was  before  me  in  Jerusalem  ;  also,  my  wisdom 
remained  with  me  •  and  whatsoever  mine  eyes  desired,  I  kept  not  from 
them  ;  I  withheld  not  my  heart  from  any  joy^  for  my  heart  rejoiced  in 
all  my  labor,  and  this  was  my  portion  of  all  my  labor.  Then  I  looked 
on  all  the  works  that  my  hands  had  wrought,  and  on  the  labor  that  I 
had  labored  to  do,  and  behold!  all  was  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit, 
and  there  was  no  profit  under  the  sun/' 

These  words,  thus  quoted  from  this  book  in  the  Bible,  show  the 
spirit  and  tenor  of  that  wonderful  sermon  of  Solomon.  After  consid- 
ering every  phase  of  human  life,  and  the  many  things  that  excite 
the  passionate  ambition  of  men,  at  the  very  end  of  the  book  he  says : 
"Let  us  hear  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter.  Fear  God  and  keep 
His  commandments,  for  this  is  the  whole  duty  of  man."* 

It  is  claimed  by  the  admirers  of  Confucius  that  it  was  he,  and  not 
Christ,  who  first  proclaimed  the  Golden  Rule.  This  is  not  true.  The 
maxim  of  Confucius,  upon  which  this  claim  was  based,  is  not  a  golden 
rule.  He  says  :  "What  you  do  not  want  done  to  yourself,  do  not  to 
others/"  It  is  only  the  negative  side  to  the  principle  of  reciprocity. 
It  is  not  golden,  because  it  is  negative.  The  Golden  Rule  of  Christ 
is  :  "All  things  whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  unto  you, 
do  ye  even  so  to  them.'' 

This,  the  grandest  maxim  of  Confucius,  falls  as  far  short  of  that  of 
the  Savior  as  the  sluggish,  stationary  civilization  of  the  Chinese  is  in- 
ferior to  the  active,  positive  and  progressive  civilization  of  the  follow- 
ers of  Solomon  and  Christ.  The  style  of  the  writings  of  Solomon  is 
much  superior  to  that  of  Confucius.  That  of  the  former  shows  him  to 
have  been  possessed  of  a  mind  with  clear,  well-defined  and  positive 
convictions. 

The  writings  of  Confucius  disclose  that  his  great  mind  was  inclined 
to  soar  away  into  the  misty  regions  of  mere  sentimentality.  Many  of 
his  maxims  are  so  airy  and  extravagant  that  it  is  impossible  to  compre- 
hend their  meaning.  In  some  instances,  if  the  translation  of  his 
writings  be  correct,  it  is  impossible  to  believe  that  he  himself  under- 
stood what  he  wrote.  His  meaning  is  very  often  exceedingly  obscure, 
and  is  frequently  entirely  incomprehensible.  In  his  book  entitled 
"The  Doctrine  of  the  Mean"  this  defect  m  style  is  the  most  observa- 
ble. In  his  argument  in  favor  of  the  practice  of  sincerity  he  says 
"Hence,  to  entire  sincerity  there  belongs  ceaselessness.  Not  ceasing, 
it  continues  long.    Continuing  long,  it  evidences  itself.  Evidencing 

4L 


So 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


itself,  it  reaches  far.  Reaching  far,  it  becomes  large  and  substantial. 
Large  and  substantial,  it  becomes  high  and  brilliant.  Large  and  sub- 
stantial, this  is  how  it  contains  all  things.^  High  and  brilliant,  this  is 
how  it  overspreads  all  things.  Reaching  far  and  continuing  long,  this 
is  how  it  perfects  all  things.  So  large  and  substantial,  the  mdividiial 
possessing  it  is  the  co-equal  of  Earth.  So  higli  and  brilliant,  it  makes 
him  the  co-equal  of  Heaven.  So  far-reaching  and  long  continually,  it 
makes  him  infinite.  Such  being  its  nature,  without  any  display  it  be- 
comes manifested,  without  any  movement  it  produces  changes,  and 
without  any  effort  it  accomplishes  its  ends.  The  way  of  Heaven  and 
Earth  may  be  completely  declared  in  one  sentence.  They  are  with- 
out any  doubleness,  and  so  they  produce  things  in  a  way  that  is  un- 
fathomable." 

Had  Solomon  or  Christ  in  their  teachings  said  anything  in  their 
writings  so  silly  and  mysterious,  what  a  point  of  assault  it  would  have 
been  for  the  ftifidel!  How  would  such  transcendent  nonsense  been 
held  up  by  the  skeptic  as  conclusive  evidence  that  the  claim  of  the 
Divine  inspiration  of  the  Bible  is  a  fraud !  Yet  they  send  forth  their 
polished  eulogium  of  the  Chinese  philosopher,  who  utters  these  airy 
nothings,  as  the  very  embodiment  of  wisdom  and  philosophy. 

The  result  of  the  teachings  of  Solomon  and  Christ  is  a  Christian 
civilization.  The  result  of  the  teachings  of  Confucius  is  the  civiliza- 
tion of  the  Chinese — a  civilization  like  that  produced  by  the  system  of 
Buddha,  of  Brahmanism,  of  Mahomed — a  stationary  civilization. 
What  China  was  a  thousand  years  ago,  it  is  to-day.  There  is  no  pro- 
gress. There  is  no  reasonable  hope  that,  so  long  as  she  clings  to  the 
doctrines  of  Confucius,  and  rejects  the  Bible,  that  she  will  ever  move 
upward  to  any  higher  plane.  Her  only  mark  of  distinction  will  con- 
tinue to  be  the  almost  endless  number  of  her  people.  The  men  of  China 
will  remain  the  enemies  of  progress,  with  no  true  conception  of  human 
duty  or  destiny ;  the  women  will  remain  mere  chattels  and  slaves, 
and  the  sombre  mantle  of  superstition  will  continue  to  envelop  the 
whole  race  in  the  darkness  of  heathenism. 

What  our  Christian  religion  is,  and  what  it  is  donig  for  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  human  race,  presents  such  an  incontrovertible  array  of  facts 
that  they  are  silencing  the  enemies  of  the  Christian  system.  It  is  over- 
throwing the  thrones  of  despotism;  it  is  dispelling  the  dark  clouds  of 
superstition  that  had  settled  down  on  the  human  soul  ;  it  is  awakening 
in  the  mind  of  man  a  proper  conception  of  its  powers  and  capabilities ; 
it  is  calHng  into  exercise  all  those  great  gifts,  with  the  inspiring  faith 
that  God  has  impressed  His  own  image  on  every  soul  of  man,  and  in- 
vested him  with  his  own  immortality. 


OUR  BOYS: 


WHO  SHALL  HAVE  THEM,  THE  CHURCH  OR  THE  WORLD? 


GEO  L.  CURTISS,  D.  D., 

Pastor  of  Fletcher  Place  Church,  Indianapolis,  Ind. 


Can  a  Christian  heart  give  any  other  answer  than  that  the  Church 
should  have  our  boys,  and  Christ  should  indeed  be  their  elder  brother  ? 

I  will  define  three  terms  here  employed.  "The  Church"  is  the 
organized  assembly  or  collection  of  God's  people — the  terrestrial  dwelling 
place  of  Christ,  by  means  of  which  the  Savior  designs  to  lead  men 
from  the  low  grounds  of  sin  up  to  Heaven.  Lying  along  in  the  Church 
is  "the  way,  the  truth,  the  life,"  and  in  this  way  is  safety,  and  its  term- 
ination is  eternal  glory. 

"The  World"  is  the  sinful  life,  which,  by  its  pleasures,  allure- 
ments and  delusions  leads  souls  down  to  ruin.  It  is  treacherous,  de- 
ceitful and  corrupting.  In  it  is  the  broad  road  which  leads  to  eternal 
destruction. 

"  B03  s,"  in  general,  are  the  male  portion  of  civilization,  anywhere 
from  six  to  twenty-one  years  of  age.  They  are  the  incoming  genera- 
tion, the  hope  of  the  world,  the  pride  of  their  parents,  the  men  of 
Church  and  State.  A  portion  of  this  period  is  the  awkward  age  of  boy 
life — the  age  of  easy  embarrassment. 

"Our  Boys"  are  peculiarly  that  portion  of  this  male  gender  that 
we,  as  parents,  suppose  are  a  little  better,  a  little  brighter,  and  a  little 
dearer  than  anybody  else's  boys.  We  think  so  because  they  are  "our 
boys."    "  Every  crow  thmks  her  own  the  blackest.'' 

The  solemn  question  is,  who  shall  have  our  boys,  and  what  shall 
our  boys  be  ?  Shall  our  boys  have  good  or  bad  habits  ?  Shall  our 
boys  be  cultured  or  uncultured  ?  Shall  our  boys  drink  wine,  beer,  gin 
and  whisky ;  smoke,  chew  and  snuff  tobacco ;  play  cards  and  games  of 


52 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


chance,  attend  horse  races  and  bet  on  speed,  live  in  chambering  and 
wantonness,  bow  at  the  court  of  Magdalenes,  and  pay  tribute  to  im- 
purity and  impiety,  and  run  riot  in  sin  and  folly,  in  violation  of  law 
and  good  order ;  shall  they  be  profane,  blasphemous,  disobedient  to 
parents,  dessecrators  of  the  Sabbath,  liars,  adulterers,  covetous ;  or  shall 
they  become  pure  and  holy,  cultured  and  Christian  citizens,  excellent 
husbands  and  superior  heads  of  families,  and  yield  every  power  of  body 
and  soul  to  the  excellent  glory  of  God  ?  Which  of  these  lines  shall 
your  boy,  shall  my  boy,  shall  ''our  boys"  follow  ?  I  answer — as  a 
Christian,  a  father,  a  citizen — the  Church,  for  Christ's  sake,  ought  to 
have,  and  must  have  our  boys,  if  we  are  true  to  ourselves  and  God. 
Why? 

1.  Because  our  boys  belong  to  Jesus  by  right  of  creation  and  pre- 
servation. 

2.  Because  Jesus  gave  Himself  to  purchase  their  pardon.  This 
is  the  right  of  redemption. 

3.  Because  Jesus  has  provided  for  our  boys  such  splendid  oppor 
tunities  for  work  in  His  vineyard,  for  the  ekvation  of  the  world  of 
man.     Man  is  made  the  educator  of  man — the  lever  is  in  his  hands 
to  overturn  the  enemies  of  Jesus. 

4.  Because  Jesus  has  such  unbounded  glories  in  store  for  those 
who  are  brought  to  Him,  in  the  Heavenly  world.  "Our  boys"  have 
mental  and  spiritual  capacities  for  highest  enjo}  ment.  God  has  de- 
signed them  for  it.  Not  one  of  "our  boys"  was  ever  designed  for 
dwarfage  or  perdition,  and  if  any  one  unfortunately  reaches  there,  he 
will  be  an  interloper.  Hell  was  not  made  for  "our  boys,"  but  for  the 
Devil  and  his  angels.  Heaven  was  made  for  pure  angels,  and  re- 
deemed men  and  boys.  Our  boys  were  made  for  Heaven,  and  Heaven 
for  our  boys.  The  Church  is  the  earthly  preparation  place  for 
Heaven.  So  our  boys  ought  to  be  in  the  Church,  preparing  for  a  place 
in  Heaven. 

5.  Because  of  the  influence  our  boys  are  to  bring  to  bear  on  the 
generations  to  come.  They  are  the  hope  of  the  country,  the  make-up 
of  society,  the  coming  statesmen  and  legislators  of  the  Nation,  the 
preachers  and  teachers  of  the  Church.  Our  boys  are  to  be  the  fathers  of 
the  succeeding  generations.  If  they  are  churchless,  Godless,  Christ- 
less,  what  will  their  boys  be?  Posterity  demands  that  the  Church  should 
have  all  our  boys.  We  owe  it  to  posterity  that  the  Church  should 
have  them. 

6.  "Our  Boys"  should  be  the  property  of  the  Church,  and  of 
Christ,  because  of  the  necessity  for  the  moral,  social  and  political  pro- 
tection of  society.     Who  will  be  society's  best  protectors,  "our  boys" 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


53 


in  the  Church  and  loving  Jesus,  or  ''our  boys"  as  "street  Arabs," 
moral  outcasts,  physical  lepers  ?  The  tendency  of  unchristianized  so- 
ciety is  toward  ignorance  and  barbarism,  terminating  in  dark  heathen- 
ism and  moral  death. 

The  question,  "Our  boys:  who  shall  have  them?"  presupposes 
that  "our  boys  wander  away  and  do  not  enter  the  Church,  or  are  in 
danger  of  so  wandering.  That  this  supposition  is  not  baseless,  and  to 
be  carefully  studied,  church  records  show.  On  an  average,  two-thirds 
of  the  membership  of  all  churches  are  women.  Illustrated  by  the 
church  of  which  I  am  now  pastor:  Of  men,  there  are  154;  of  women, 
245  ;  a  total  of  399,  or  two-thirds  are  women.  There  are  in  the  same 
church  19  bo}  s  and  71  girls,  or  nearly  four-fifths  are  girls.  This 
ought  not  so  to  be.    The  boys  ought  to  equal  the  girls. 

A  boy  is  a  curious  piece  of  mechanism.  He  is  a  compound  of 
flesh  and  blood,  l)onc  and  sinew,  mind  and  soul,  human  nature  and 
self-will,  love  and  stubbornness.  When  young  and  small,  he  is  under 
fair  control,  provided  his  father  and  mother  have  sense  enough  to  con- 
trol themselves.  The  boy  often  needs  correction,  but  oftener  gets  it 
in  the  wrong  spirit.  The  ways  of  a  small  boy  are  inexplicable, 
and  remain  so  until  he  is  a  man.  He  is  pleased  with  a  noise, 
pleased  to  put  in  an  appearance  just  when  not  needed,  loves  to  do  for 
bidden  things  simply  to  show  that  he  can  do  them,  bears  himself  un- 
graciously toward  younger  sisters,  revels  in  tormenting  dogs  and  cats, 
and  can  forget  things  he  don't  want  to  remember  the  easiest,  and  then 
think  of  things  you  wish  forgotten  just  at  the  most  unwelcome  time. 
Who  knoweth  a  boy?  What  boy  knows  himself?  What  man  ever 
knows  he  was  a  boy  ? 

Boys  are  as  various  as  the  blades  of  striped  grass,  no  two  of  which 
can  be  found  exactly  alike,  or  as  the  varied  tints  of  a  mountain  sunset, 
ranging  through  all  the  colors  and  shades  of  the  rainbow. 

Boys  are  vivacious  or  sluggish,  enthusiasiic  or  lifeless,  brave  or  cow- 
ardly, studious  or  indolent,  precocious  or  dull,  loving  or  hateful,  and 
sometimes  seem  to  be  a  strange  mixture  of  many  of  these  most  diverse 
characters  at  once.  It  is  for  this  reason  boys  in  general  are  so  hard  to 
manage. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  the  boy  who  is  so  quiet,  and  precise, 
and  lovable,  and  never  in  mischief  is,  after  all,  the  greatest  and  best 
boy,  and  destined  to  become  a  remarkable  man.  The  precise,  quiet 
boy  may  have  his  lessons  well  learned,  may  recite  superbly,  may  give 
the  teacher  but  Httle  trouble,  but  he  seldom  moves  anything.  He  has 
not  the  elements  of  grand  things  and  magnificent  enterprises  in  him. 
He  is  too  slow.  He  is  often  tardy,  sluggish,  and  waits  to  be  roused. 
He  lets  opportunities  slip. 


54 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


But,  that  rolicking,  jolicking,  somersault-turning,  pin-sticking  and 
fun-loving  boy,  if  he  is  free  from  viciousness,  get  him  once  converted 
and  started  on  the  right  track  and  he  will  most  likely  stir  the  world. 
Such  was  Luther,  a  great  rogue  and  funstick  when  a  boy — such  are 
most  great  men,  when  their  boyhood  is  properly  known. 

It  is  the  restless  boy,  rangiitg  anywhere  from  six  years  up  to  twen- 
ty-one  years  of  age,  of  whom  1  am  speaking,  and  for  whom  I  plead. 
The  boy  between  these  years  is  greatly  misunderstood.  Many  call 
him  an  unmitigated  nuisance,  and  so  hurt  his  feelings  and  do  him  an 
injustice.  When  small,  his  mother,  by  dint  of  hard  work  and  mother- 
ly authority,  keeps  him  somewhat  clean  and  tidy,  but  from  thirteen  to 
seventeen  years  he  is,  as  a  general  thing,  a  sloven.  Now  is  a  very 
trying  time.  This  is  the  vealy  age.  It  is  an  age  of  awkwardness; 
the  boy  does  not  know  what  to  do  with  either  his  hands  or  his  feet.  It 
is  the  age  of  running  away.  Nearly  every  boy  has  an  attack  of  this 
disease  once  in  a  lifetime,  known  as  the  ski}jping-out  sickness.  Cure 
a  boy  of  this  disease,  and  keep  him  in  good,  religious  society  through 
this  period,  and  employ  his  mind  profitably,  and  make  him  in  love 
with  home,  and  half  the  battle  is  fought.  During  this  period  the 
mother  ought  to  lead  her  boy  to  become  a  lover,  while  she  is  his  model 
lady-love. 

At  about  seventeen  years  the  boy  is  liable  to  an  attack  of  a  new 
disease,  which  needs  to  be  carefully  dealt  with.  The  disease  won't 
hurt  him,  if  he  has  sensible  treatment.  Indeed,  it  will,  do  him  good. 
It  is  a  heart  disease.  It's  attack  is  usually  sudden.  He  suddenly 
comes  to  think  that  some  - precious  little  piece  of  femininity  in  calico  is 
just  the  sweetest  thing  on  earth.  Every  time  he  sees  her  there  is  a  sort 
of  warming  sensation  right  under  his  vest  and  in  the  region  of  the  hearty 
and  ablush  mantles  his  cheek.  That  blush  is  worth  more  than  money 
can  represent.  When  the  boy  can't  love  and  blush  he  is  in  danger,  if 
not  already  ruined.  It  is  not  a  misfortune  that  the  boy  has  such  feelings. 
If  good  and  judicious  parents  will  now  seek  to  control  and  train  that 
tender  emotion  in  lines  of  right,  and  not  try  to  crush  it  out,  or  ridicule 
it,  they  have  a  lever  that  will  lift  the  boy  out  of  his  boorishness  into 
gentility.  He'll  spruce  up,  brush  up  his  clothes,  hang  up  his  hat,  tidy 
his  room,  learn  the  ways  of  polished  society,  cultivate  his  taste,  and 
take  a  new  bearing.  He  breathes  the  air  of  a  man,  and  his  heart  beats 
like  a  man.  It  is  a  fortune  to  a  boy  to  love  and  be  loved,  provided 
he  has  sensible  parents  to  teach,  counsel  and  help,  or  elder  sisters  to  be 
constant  friends,  to  whom  he  can  unbosom  mind  and  soul. 

When  the  soul  is  susceptible  to  these  tender  emotions  and  influ- 
ences, it  is  also  susceptible  to  religious  impressions,  and  may  be 
brought  into  the  Church, 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


55 


''i)uY  boys"  are  of  the  type  I  have  been  describing — no  better,  no 
worse.  We  may  make  them  ahnost  what  we  will.  They  are  like 
plastic  clay  in  the  potter's  hand. 

Is  there  any  necessity  for  our  boys  to  "sow  wild  oats?"  Must 
they  run  into  sin  and  folly,  and  become  corrupt  in  order  afterward  to 
become  pre-eminently  good  ?  I  answer,  none  whatever.  However 
good  and  pure  may  be  middle  and  old  life,  the  effects  of  sowing  "wild 
oats"  can  never  be  effaced.  1  saw  at  the  Union  Depot,  at  Indianapo- 
lis, not  long  ago,  a  man  now  prominent  in  civil  life,  who,  for  many 
years  was  dissipated  and  sinful.  He  has  since  reformed,  and  is  a  mem- 
ber of  an  Evangelical  Church.  But  he  never  can  efface  the  evidences 
of  his  wild  life  from  nose,  eye  and  cheeks. 

Have  not  clergymen,  in  expounding  the  parable  of  the  prodigal 
son,  dwelt  on  the  glory  of  the  prodigal's  return  until  it  has  stood  out  in 
fanciful  elegance  and  resplendent  excellence,  and  minified  the  integ- 
rity, stability  and  virtue  of  the  elder  brother,  who  remained  in 
the  Church,  until  "our  boys"  have  thought  that  to  be  esteemed 
and  honored  in  after  life  they  must  in  early  life  be  prodigal  ? 
"Ah,"  somebody  says,  "bad  illustration;  for  the  elder  brother  got 
angry  because  his  father  was  lavishing  so  much  on  his  profligate 
brother."  True,  the  elder  brother  got  angry,  or  showed  that  he  was 
not  perfectly  equable  in  temper  and  was  really  indignant.  But  where 
is  the  sin  in  a  righteous  indignation  ?  He  had  never  left  his  father, 
nor  spent  his  father's  hard  earnings  in  riot  and  abandonment  until  he 
was  burned  up  and  eaten  alive  with  his  sins.  I  repeat  it:  The  elder 
brother  is  the  model  man,  not  the  w^ild  and  profligate  prodigal.  "The 
indiscretions  of  youth  are  drafts  to  be  paid  at  maturity." 

Doubtless  I  should  speak  of  the  antagonizing  forces  on  the  battle- 
field of  the  moral  and  physical  nature  of  our  boys,  and  point  out  as  to 
which  shall  ultimately  become  the  conquerer. 

1.      THE   FORCES  OF  SIN. 

1.  Forces  working  internal — as  Frivolity,  hilarity,  evil  thoughts, 
vain  imaginations,  etc. 

2.  Forces  external  and  internal — Alcohol,  tobacco,  dancing,  lust, 
appetite,  etc. 

3.  Forces  external — (yaming  and  betting,  horse-racing,  ambition 
for  power,  greed  for  wealth,  etc. 

Do  not  these  include  all  great  evil  forces  contending  for  the  con- 
trol of  our  boys  ? 

II.      FORCES  OF  RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

I.  The  force  of  the  Church  in  its  moral  and  religious  influence. 
It  is  the  salt  of  the  earth,  the  preservative  of  society. 


56 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


2.  The  force  of  Christian  culture.    Inhere  is  no  solid  culture 
\Anthout  the  pure  Christian  element. 

3.  The  force  of  personal  purity — leading  to  sobriety,  carefulness, 
purging  of  deadness,  stimulation  of  nobler  and  purer  emotions.  I.ike 
begets  like.  As  the  forces  of  righteousness  operate  and  sensibly  move 
towards  God,  they  gain  acceleration  of  force.  Just  as  when  a  body  is* 
falling  toward  the  earth,  it  is  accelerated  by  force  of  gravitation  the 
nearer  it  approaches  the  great  fountain  of  gravitating  force,  so  the 
young  man  or  boy  who  begins  to  turn  to  God  and  feels  the  force  of 
His  power,  as  he  draws  nearer,  this  Divine  force  is  accelerated. 

These,  the  forces  of  sin  and  of  righteousness,  are  constantly  an- 
tagonized, and  the  hearts  and  lives  of  our  boys  become  the  battle-field. 

In  my  judgment,  the  forces  of  righteousness  will  ultimately  be 
victorious.  While  many  may  fall  before  the  forces  of  sin,  ere  the  hnal  tri- 
umph, yet  1  believe  there  are  to-day  evidences  that  the  boys  will  yet 
be  saved.  To-day  a  greater  number  of  our  boys  are  in  the  Church, 
and  actively  religious,  than  ever  before.  The  attention  of  the  Church 
and  parents  is  being  called  to  the  boys  more  than  in  former  years. 

When  ought  "our  boys"  to  be  in  the  Church?  Ought  they  ever 
to  be  out? 

I  presume  that  all  will  recognize  the  fact  that  in  some  wa}-  every 
church  ought  to  recognize  children  and  childhood  conversion. 

1  think  that  "our  boys,"  when  boys,  ought  to  become  members  of 
the  Church.  When  very  small  they  may  become  personally  acquaint- 
ed, by  a  saving  knowledge,  with  Jesus.  "The  promise  is  to  you  and 
to  your  children,  and  to  as  many  as  are  afar  off;"  to  you  as  parents, 
to  your  boys,  and  to  those  unfortunate  ones  who  have  grown  up  with- 
out any  acquaintance  with  Jesus. 

The  boA  S  may  be  in  the  Church  when  very  young  and  be  true  and 
faithful  servants  of  God. 

How  can  we  get  our  boys  into  the  Church  and  to  Christ? 

I.  By  the  power  and  influence  of  Christian  culture  in  the  family. 
71ie  family!  I  emphasize  this.  Family  religion  must  be  the  most 
prominent  factor  in  this  work  of  boy  saving.  We  need  a  reformation 
in  home  government.  We  need  the  exercise  of  wholesome  home  dis- 
cipline to  lead  "our  boys"  to  attend  church.  It  does  not*  tell  much 
for  the  piety  or  anxiety  of  parents  for  the  welfare  and  conversion  of 
their  boys  if  they  are  found  at  church  singing  and  praying  to  bring  the 
Spirit  down,  and  the  boys  are  left  at  home  to  raise  the  Devil  up.  All 
your  singing  of  p.salms,  and  holy  groans,  and  pious  desires,  and  sol- 
emn, anxious  longings  avail  but  little  if  your  boys  are  not  with  you. 

"  But  my  boys  don't  love  to  go  to  church,"  says  a  father.  "They 
on't  like  the  preacher.     He  preaches  too  long,  or  too  loud,  or  too 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


57 


plain."  Who  has  helped  to  create  this  dislike?  Who  hrst  taiKed  in 
the  family  of  dislike  ?  Oftimes  the  sinful  carelessness  and  unguarded 
words  of  the  parents  caused  al!  the  dislike.  The  growling  and  grum- 
bling of  parents  has  fostered  and  perpetuated  the  dislike. 

It  is  some  trouble  to  take  the  b.^ys  to  church,  and  so  they  are  left 
at  home — left  to  the  cruelties  of  hired  help  and  irresponsible  persons, 
and  the  quick  suggestions  of  the  adversary  of  souls. 

How  many  famiHes  teach  "our  boys"  the  catechi.sm  ?  How 
many  instruct  "our  boys"  in  Bible  knowledge?  How  many  carefully 
devote  one  hour  a  week  to  home  religious  instruction  ?  How  many 
f[uestion  "our  boys"  as  to  the  emotions  and  desires  of  the  soul?  How 
many  have  taken  "our  boys"  to  the  place  of  secret  prayer?  Nearly 
thirty  years  have  passed  since  my  father  died.  One  of  the  pleasantest 
memories  now  graven  on  my  heart  and  mind  is  of  the  times  when  he 
used  to  take  me  to  a  place  of  secret  prayer.  Oue  special  occasion 
now  comes  before  me,  of  thirty-five  years  ago.  My  father,  in  my  boy- 
hood, was  a  farmer.  That  particular  year  he  had  cut  and  put  up  one 
hundred  acres  of  hay.  The  last  stacks  had  been  made.  The  sun  had 
been  down  about  half  an  hour.  He  sent  the  men  with  the  teams  to 
the  barn.  J,  a  little  boy  of  about  ten  years,  remained  with  him  at  the 
stacks.  He  looked  around  and  saw  that  everything  was  secure.  Turning 
to  me.  he  said:  '  'G eorge,  it  is  my  habit  every  time  I  close  a  day's  work,  to 
pray,  and  when  I  get  through  a  special  piece  of  work,  I  pray  and  thank 
God.  To-night  I  have  finished  my  haying  and  harvesting.  I  want 
to  pray  here."  There  we  kneeled  together.  What  a  scene!  I  can 
never  forget  it.  Away  to  the  west  were  a  few  lingering  rays  of  the  de- 
parted sun.  To  the  east  the  large  farm  house  and  barns,  and  the  men 
putting  away  the  teams.  We  were  l)y  the  great  stacks  ot  hay  in  the 
midst  of  the  meadow,  and  father  was  praying.  Oh,  bow  he  prayed! 
What  thanksgivings  !  What  pleadings  !  How  he  pouied  out  his  great 
soul  for  his  family  !    Blessed  be  God  fof  such  a  father  ! 

Brethren,  Parents,  the  family  is  God's  greatest  instrument  for 
bringing  "our  boys"  into  the  Church  and  to  religion.  Home  religion 
is  the  strong  right  arm  of  the  Church  in  the  world's  evangelization. 

2.  Our  churches  need  to  take  a  deeper  interest  in  "our  boys" 
than  they  do.  Give  those  who  are  in  the  Church  something  to  do. 
Put  them  at  work  on  committees.  Make  the  boys  of  the  Church  feel 
*\ey  have  some  personal  responsibility.  l.>ead  them  to  talk  and  pray, 
LO  sing  and  read.  As  they  are  stimulated  to  action,  they  will  influence 
others.  A  hundred  ways  for  utilizing  boys  will  suggest  themselves 
to  a  pastor  alive  to  this  interest. 


58 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


3.  Our  Sunday-schools  must  have  a  definite  aim,  viz,:  the  con- 
version of  the  boys,  and  bringing  them  into  the  Church.  Anything 
less  than  this  is  not  in  any  sense  worthy  of  the  Sunday-school.  Con- 
version and  church  membership  are  objective  points.  I  do  not  believe 
very  much  in  the  conversion  of  people  and  they  remain  unconnected 
with  some  church.  The  Sunday-school  must  seek  to  lead  "our  boys" 
to  conversion  and  into  church  membershi]j. 

4.  Preachers  and  people  need  to  be  in  a  deeper  sympathy  with 
"our  boys'"  and  their  conversion  than  they  are.  We  need  to  study  their 
habits,  dispositions,  susceptibilities  to  wholesome  influences.  Preach- 
ers need  to  teach  and  preach  the  pure,  sound  gospel  to  boys  as  well  as 
to  others,  and  then,  by  friendly  recognition,  win  them  to  a  pure  life. 

The  Church,  the  Sunday-school,  the  people  and  preachers  must 
bring  all  their  prayers,  tears,  cries,  sympathies,  teachmg,  influence — 
everything  to  bear  upon  the  minds  and  hearts  of  our  boys,  to  win  them 
to  Christ  and  the  Church. 


THE  BPO0H  OF  INTEGRATION. 


BY  J.  C.  RIDPATH,  LL.  U. 


Mr.  President,  Ladies  and  Gentle  men  : — ■ 

I  have  a  conviction  that  we  are  now  face  to  face  w^ith  one  of  the 
the  most  important  epochs  in  the  history  of  civilization.  I  will  not 
say  the  most  important,  the  most  momentous  era  of  the  w^orld  ;  for  all 
men  in  all  ages  have  considered  their  owm  day  and  generation  moment- 
ous and  sublime.  The  laudator  teniporis  acti  is,  as  a  general  rule,  the 
shallowest  among  mortals.  But  I  say  one  of  the  most  important  ep- 
ochs;  and  I  am  persuaded  that,  viewed  in  the  "high  and  dry  light"  of 
clear  reason  and  calm  philosophy,  few,  if  any,  of  the  past  periods  of 
history  have  been  fairly  comparable  with  the  present  era  in  civilization 
as  it  respects  the  momentous  results  which  our  times  are  whirling  into 
view. 

The  highest  source  and  fountain  of  the  interest,  and  value,  and  im- 
portance of  our  epoch  is  found,  I  believe,  in  the  fact  that  we  have 
reached  what  may  be  called  the  beginning  of  the  integration  of  man 
and  his  works. 

I  am  as  painfully  impressed  as  you  are  with  a  sense  of  the  vague- 
ness and  formality  of  these  words,  "the  integration  of  man  and  his 
works,"  yet  to  my  apprehension  there  is  a  meaning  hidden  in  them, 
clear,  and  full  of  the  deepest  interest ;  and,  with  your  leave,  I  will  at- 
tempt in  the  present  hour  to  develop  and  to  illustrate  the  thought  so 
vaguely  outlined  in  the  expression,  "the  beginning  of^  the  integration 
of  man  and  his  works." 

To  proceed,  then,  w^ithout  tielay,  to  the  consideration  of  the  theme 
before  us,  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  term  integration,  in  its  applica- 
tion to  man  and  his  works  ?  When  we  speak  of  an  epoch  of  integration 
in  history,  what  are  the  ideas,  the  thoughts  wdiich  the  expression,  justly 
considered,  may  be  said  to  convey  ? 


6o 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


The  word  ' 'integer"  means  one  zvhole  fhi?ig,  a  unit,  a  complete  and 
perfect  unit,  wanting  nothing  in  its  essential  oneness  and  entire- 
ty. The  sense  of  the  term,  however,  is  by  no  means  that  of  homo- 
geneity or  sameness  throughout ;  for  the  parts  which  make  up  the  unit 
may  be  ever  so  heterogeneous  as  it  regards  each  other ;  but  the  idea  is 
that  over  these  parts  and  through  them  a  principle  of  unity  so  obtains 
as  to  bind  them  all  in  one,  perfect,  entire,  indissoluble. 

Now,  the  process  of  becoming  an  integer  or  whole  thing  is  called 
integration.  It  is  the  tendency  towards  the  unit — the  gravitation  of 
multiplicity  into  oneness — the  flux  of  the  heterogeneous  into  homo- 
geneity. 

It  will  be  seen  at  a  glance  that  the  term  integration  is  set  over  in 
a  precise  antithesis  against  another  term  much  used  in  the  philosophy 
of  our  times,  namely,  differentiation,  or  the  process  by  which  one 
thing  becomes  many  things.  Here  the  mind  separates  into  multiplici- 
ty; the  integer  divides  into  parts,  and  these  into  other  parts,  until  that 
which  was  one  thing  presided  over  by  a  single  principle,  becomes 
many  things  presided  over  by  a  thousand  conflicting  and  irreconcilable 
forces. 

In  the  beginning,  the  universe  which  we  inhabit  was  a  unit.  It 
was  one  thmg,  having  in  it  the  splendid  potencies  of  whatever  has 
been,  and  is,  and  shall  be.  It  began  in  an  integer,  and  it  will  end  in 
another.  Somewhere  in  the  fathomless  infinity  of  the  past  there  was  a 
limitless  oneness;  and  somewhere  in  the  abysmal  depth  of  the  future, 
there  is  another.  Between  these  sublime  and  solitary  units — standing 
so  far,  so  infinitely  far,  apart — spreads  the  wide  domain  of  the  things 
that  are  and  the  things  that  seem  to  be.  Here  in  the  midst,  between 
the  integer  that  was  and  the  integer  that  shall  be,  passes  the  great  drama 
of  the  worlds.  Spheres  roll  and  shine.  Suns  burst  out  of  the  soli- 
tudes. Planets,  rings,  and  satellites  whirl  forth  to  view.  Nebulae  lie 
floating  white  on  the  outer  skirts,  and  comet  wanderers  dive  up  and 
down.  Here,  too,  is  the  abode  of  life,  the  domain  of  rational  action, 
the  field  where  Thought  and  Matter  struggle  in  an  everlasting  broil. 
Here,  too,  on  an  insignificant  globe,  half-cooled  from  mcandescence  to 
a  clod,  are  fought  the  mighty  battles  of  Will  and  Fate,  of  Design  and 
Chance,  of  Necessity  and  Freedom.  The  brain  of  man  fires  with  the 
frictions  and  perplexities  of  the  problem.  His  soul  tosses  in  a  perpet- 
ual fever.  He  takes  the  torch  of  reason,  the  lamp  of  philosophy  ; 
he  glances  backward  and  sees,  just  behind  that  part  of  the  universe 
which  he  li\  es  in,  an  ocean  of  flame.  It  is  the  fire-mist  of  Laplace — 
the  star-dust  out  of  which  have  sprung  the  worlds.  He  looks  around 
him  and  beholds  organism  everywhere,  system  and  counter-system, 


ACTON  LECTURES; 


61 


poise  and  equipoise,  motions  and  processes,  laws  and  relations  wide  as 
the  vault  and  dome  of  nature.  He  glances  to  the  future  and  sees  in 
the  distance  the  dim  shadow  of  a  consummation,  a  catastrophe  per- 
haps, not  exactly  a  ruin,  but  a  resolution,  under  the  inevitable  opera- 
tion of  law,  of  all  organic  forms  into  the  solemn  oneness  which  stands, 
statue-like  and  still,  far  off  in  that  cloudy  horizon. 

Now,  the  process,  or  modus  opera7idi,  by  which  the  solitary  unit, 
the  infinite  oneness  of  the  past  has  rolled  out  into  the  teeming  universe 
of  organic  forms,  in  the  midst  of  which  we  hang  suspended  is  differ- 
entiation ;  and  the  other  process,  or  modus  operandi,  of  the  after  part, 
whereby  the  infinitely  diverse  forms  and  facts  which  we  discern  swim- 
ming in  the  deep  blue  ocean  around  us  are  pressed  downwards  in  con- 
verging lines  towards  unification  in  a  single  result  which  is  to  consti- 
tute the  integer  of  the  hereafter — is  integration,  or  the  tendency  of  the 
multiform  into  one.  And  these  two  processes,  the  one  of  differentia- 
tion and  the  other  of  integration,  taken  together,  constitute  one  complete 
process,  which,  so  to  speak,  swells  out  in  the  middle  and  converges  to 
the  close ;  and  this  one  complete  process  embraces  in  its  almost  limit- 
less sweep  the  destiny,  not  only  of  our  own  sphere  and  planetary  sys- 
tem, but  of  universal  nature  and  of  man. 

But  look  still  further  and  more  closely.  Does  it  not  appear  that 
this  vast  process  which  I  have  described  as  being  in  its  first  half  a  pro- 
cess of  differentiation,  and  in  its  after  part  a  process  of  integration, 
must,  in  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  have  some  point  in  the  middle  where 
the  differentiating  forces  expend  themselves,  cease  to  operate,  and  die ; 
and  where  the  new  integrating  forces,  now  fine  and  filmy,  take  hold  of 
the  analyzed  results  and  naked  elements  of  things,  and  begin  to  press 
them  together  into  oneness  ?  Such  is  undoubtedly  the  case.  Just  at 
that  point  where  the  differentiating  tendency,  by  the  sheer  dissipation 
of  its  energy,  falls  exhausted,  the  new  process  of  making  whole  again 
begins  to  be  efficient. 

But  I  might  reason  long  in  this  abstract  way  without  making  suffi- 
ciently clear  the  thought  I  have  in  mind.  So  let  us  take  a  familiar  ex- 
ample from  nature.  Here  is  an  apple  seed.  It  is  an  integer — a  unit 
presided  over  by  a  single  force ;  not  homogeneous  in  its  substance,  but 
still  a  unit.  I  plant  it.  What  happens?  A  germ  within  bursts  forth. 
A  stem  shoots  up.  Branches  appear.  Then  leaves.  Winters  and 
summers  go  by  ;  and  this  organism,  under  the  dominion  of  the  differ- 
entiating forces,  growing  constantly  more  and  more  multiplex,  thrusts 
out  and  out,  renewing  and  struggling,  until  finally  forth  burst  the  blos- 
soms. Up  to  this  time  it  would  be  impossible  to  tell  what  the  tree,  so 
to  speak,  has  been  driving  at — towards  what  its  energies  have  been  di- 


62 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


rected.  But  mark  this  with  particularity,  that  just  as  soon  as  the  blos- 
soms are  perfected  the  differentiating  process,  which  had  thus  far  pre- 
sided over  the  organism,  falls  exhausted ;  and  the  tree,  as  it  were,  be- 
comes suddenly  possessed  of  the  thought  of  making  an  apple.  To  do 
this  is  a  work  of  integration,  and  to  accomplish  the  result  the  tree  all 
at  once  settles  down  to  sober  bus'ness.  It  had  been  hitherto  gay  and 
profuse.  There  is  no  more  of  that.  Every  energy  is  bent  appleward. 
Every  force  bears  down  in  that  direction.  Blossoms  are  sacrificed. 
Leaves  are  sacrificed.  Bark,  and  fiber,  and  sap  are  sacrificed.  Every 
impulse  within  the  organism  converges  to  a  single  point ;  and  there  in 
the  days  of  the  autumnal  frost,  swinging  ripe  and  red  at  the  end  of  the 
leafless  bough,  hangs  the  golden  trophy  of  the  great  integrating  en- 
deavor. This  same  thing,  with  infinite  variation  but  singleness  of  pur- 
pose, is  perpetually  repeated  in  all  those  multiform  processes  of  growth 
and  development  which  we  behold  in  the  world  around  us. 

The  idea  is  now  before  you.  The  current  of  the  thought  which  is  to 
bear  us  forward  in  the  discussion  is  fairly  in  motion.  And  the  thought 
is  this :  The  human  race  has  a.  career.  That  career  has  an  origin,  a 
tendency,  a  middle  climax,  a  convergence,  and  an  end.  This  is  the 
one  great  thought  of  history.  Philosophy  teaches  it.  ^Science  pro- 
claims it.  Nature  indicates  it.  All  things  point  it  out.  The  great 
thinkers  of  all  ages  pass  before  us  and  repeat  it.  Swedenborg,  with 
his  splendid  imagination,  flies  hitherward  on  mystic  wing  to  tell  us  that 
the  universe,  with  all  its  activities  and  glories,  was  breathed  out — ex- 
pired from  the  bosom  of  the  infinite,  and  that  by  and  by  it  will  be  re- 
breathed  into  that  same  bosom  again.  Asiatic  philosophy  echoes  the 
thought.  Without  it,  all  the  teachings  of  the  Buddha  vanish  into  air. 
The  great  (kiizot,  from  the  heart  of  the  buzzing  and  passionate  capital 
of  Europe,  looks  out  on  the  aspect  and  says:  'Tt  has  been  asked 
whether  there  is  a  general  civilization  for  the  whole  human  race — a 
course  for  humanity  to  run — a  destiny  for  it  to  accomplish ;  whether 
nations  have  not  transmitted,  from  age  to  age,  something  to  their  suc- 
cessors which  is  never  lost,  but  which  grows  and  continues  as  a  com- 
mon stock,  and  will  thus  be  carried  on  to  the  end  of  all  things.  For 
my  own  part,"  he  continues,  "I  feel  assured  that  human  nature  has 
such  a  destiny;  that  a  general  civilization  pervades  the  human  race, 
and  the  history" — of  this  civilization — "is  the  most  noble,  the  most  in- 
teresting," the  most  comprehensive  of  all  works.  Our  own  great  and 
venerable  poet,  now  dead—  peace  to  his  immortal  memory  I — looking 


f 


ACTON  LECTURES.  6^ 

down  from  his  high  window  upon  die  surging  and  vagrant  currents  of 
humanity  in  Broadway,  cries  out: — 

These  struggling  tides  of  Hfe  that  seem 

In  wayward,  aimless  couise  to  tend. 

Are  eddies  of  the  mighty  stream 

That  rolls  to  its  appointed  end. 
All  things,  I  say  again,  indicate  as  clearly  as  can  be,  that  there  is 
for  the  human  race  in  the  world  a  career,  and  that  that  career  has  its 
modes  and  processes,  its  beginning,  its  middle,  and  its  end.  What, 
then,  are  the  modes  and  processes  by  which  the  race  of  man  goes  for- 
ward to  its  destiny  ? 

I  answer  that  the  career  of  man,  like  the  career  of  all  things  else, 
is  divided  into  two  parts,  the  first  half  being  his  differentiation,  and 
the  other  half  his  integration.  The  first  part  embraces  the  analytic, 
and  the  other  the  synthetic  half  of  the  complete  humanity.  Up  to  the 
middle,  the  process  is  one  of  separation,  of  divergence  and  dispersion  ; 
and  down  to  the  close  the  process  is  that  of  synthesis  and  integration. 
The  middle  crisis  is  reached  whenever  the  differentiating  forces,  thrust- 
ing out  and  out,  have  laid  apart  by  evolution  and  analysis  the  ele- 
mentary substances,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  of  civilization  and  of  man  ; 
and  the  final  crisis  will  be  reached  when  man  rt:;/^ civilization,  gathering 
up  in  themselves  the  elements  produced  by  differentiation,  shall  stand 
forth  as  perfect  integers,  wanting  nothing  in  their  unity  and  complete- 
ness. 

Now,  I  am  here  to  express  the  conviction,  or  rather  to  repeat  the 
thought  which  was  outlined  in  the  beginning,  namely,  that  we  are  now 
standing  somewhere  about  or  near  that  supreme  middle  crisis  in  the  ca- 
reer of  the  human  race,  where  and  when  the  old,  exhausted,  differen- 
tiating tendencies  expend  themselves  and  die,  and  where  the  new  in- 
tegrating tendencies  begin  to  appear.  I  believe  that  this  thought  is 
not  without  its  value  and  importance.  To  me  it  appears  a  sublime 
concept  of  the  order  of  the  world.  It  puts  him  instantly,  who  grasps 
its  force  and  import,  into  a  new  and  extraordinary  relation  with  the  in- 
finite order  of  things ;  and  1  am  persuaded  that  the  more  this  thought 
is  examined,  and  reviewed,  and  subjected  to  critical  analysis,  the  more 
clearly  it  will  seem  to  express  the  true  present  attitude  of  mankind  to 
the  general  aspect  of  the  race. 

I  repeat,  then,  that  we  are  now  somewhere  in  that  marvelous  epoch 
wherein  the  differentiating  forces  which  have  so  long  played  upon  man 
\  and  his  works,  driving  them  outward  and  outward  by  divergence  and 

separation,  have  exhausted  themselves  and  can  go  no  further,  and 
where  the  new  forces  of  convergence  and  integration  begins  to  operate. 
Meanwhile,  for  a  moment,  here  we  lie  becalmed.    The  sails  of  our 


64 


ACtON  LECTURES. 


ship  hang  flapping.  The  clouds  are  still  above,  and  the  ocean  beneath 
is  tideless.  The  old  winds  blow  no  more.  The  old  forces  are  dead 
We  and  all  of  our  deeds,  like  the  magical  fret- work  of  a  cavern,  hang  iot 
the  hour  in  perfect  stillness.  The  star-light  of  the  ages  gone,  stream- 
ing up  the  long  lines  of  diverging  and  widening  waves,  glint  upon  us 
here  on  the  crest ;  and  in  a  moment  more  we  shall  turn  to  the  other 
side  of  the  billow  to  gather  up  the  converging  splendors  (jf  the  stars  be- 
yond. 

This  is  the  general  outline  of  the  scene.  I  have  thus  far  proceed- 
ed deductively,  laying  down  such  propositions  as  have  appeared  to  me 
to  be  warranted  by  right  reason  and  the  principles  of  a  sound  philoso- 
phy. I  shall  now,  however,  turn  the  inquiry  about,  and  begin  with 
the  facts  of  human  history.  And  I  beg  you  to  believe  me  that  I  shall 
not  distort  these  facts  with  a  view  to  bolster  up  a  foregone  conclusion, 
but  shall  use  them  fairly  and  without  prejudice,  as  they  seem  to  bear 
upon  the  subject  before  us.  Let  us,  then,  for  a  while  enter  the  do- 
main of  fact. 

Man  began  his  historic  career  in  the  earth  i?y  formulati7ig  institu- 
tiofis.  The  production  and  establishment  of  institutions  is  the  sum  and 
substance  ot  history.  It  is  in  and  through  these  institutions  that  man 
has  manifested  himself,  and  not  otherwise.  He  is  known  by  his 
works ;  and  the  modes  and  processes,  the  peculiarities  and  tendencies 
of  his  career  are  to  be  gathered  from  the  institutions  which  he  has 
created.  Whatever  they  have  been  he  has  been,  and  without  them  his 
record  is  unknowable. 

Now,  the  institutions  which  man  has  created  may  be  grouped 
under  three  general  heads  : 

1.  Institutions  of  Religion. 

2.  Institutions  of  Society. 

3.  Institutions  of  Language. 

Under  the  first  of  these  heads  I  mean  to  embrace  not  only  religion 
pure  and  simple,  but  all  the  moral  and  ethical  endeavors  of  the  race. 
Under  the  second  head  are  included  all  institutions  having  distinct 
reference  to  man  associated,  rather  than  to  man  individual ;  and  under 
the  third  head — tliat  is,  institutions  of  language — are  embraced  not 
merely  the  linguistic  developments  of  the  race,  but  also  the  literatures, 
philosophies,  and  indeed  all  those  phenomena  which  have  language  for 
their  origin  and  bottom  fact. 

First,  then,  of  the  religious  institutions  of  mankind.  What  have 
been  their  character  and  tendencies  ? 

Religion  began  in  monotheism.    You  may  be  sure  of  that.  Mon- 


\ 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


65 


Dtheism  is  the  integer  which  stands  at  the  beginning.     1  care  not 
where  that  beginning  is,  or  when.    That  question  belongs  to  historical 
criticism.     I  speak  only  of  the  fact — a  fact  which  is  now  quite  beyond 
the  region  of  dispute  and  cavil.    Back  of  all  the  religions  of  the  world 
stands  the  austere  and  sublime  figure  of  monotheism.     It  is  the  unit 
and  germ  of  oneness,  out  of  which  have  sprung  all  the  aspirations  of 
the  human  soul  in  regard  to  the  supernal.     ?]ack  of  the  Vedic  hymns, 
back  of  the  Indic  philosophy  and  ritual  rises  a  shining  figure,  oudined 
in  the  glorious  effulgence  of  sunlight,  bright,  immortal,  and  almighty. 
It  IS  the  Dyaus  Pitar,  Lord  of  the  sky  land  and  Father  of  Heaven.  He 
is  one,  not  many  ;  single,  not  multiplex.   He  is  the  integer  upon  which 
the  thought  and  hope  of  the  old  Aryans,  of  the  valley  of  Indus,  rested 
at  the  beginning.    Zeus  Pater  of  the  Greeks  was  not  at  the  first  the 
Olympian  hierarch  of  impure  life  and  doubtful  wisdom,  but  the  omnip- 
otent Father  of  the  skies,  serene  and  glorious.    And  the  post-heroic 
Jupiter^  the  Jupiter  of  the  poets  and  wits,  the  Jupiter  of  Roman  skep- 
ticism  and  mockery,  was  only  a  grotesque  caricature,  a  coarse  mounte- 
bank and  clown,  a  mere  shadow  in  rude  outline  of  the  old  sublime  god- 
hood  of  Jove.    He,  too,  at  the  first,  was  one — the  integer  of  the  faith 
and  hope  of  the  Italic  races.    Woden,  also,  the  mi,o^hty  and  somber 
deity  of  the  North — Woden,  chief  god  of  the  Teutonic  nations,  sitting 
■enthroned  above  the  Norwegian  fogs,  looking  solemnly  down  upon  the 
vast  Yellow  Baltic,  roaring  and  bellowing  along  the  shore,  gazing  cold- 
ly on  the  glaring  mountains,  the  ever-frozen  bogs,  and  solitary  forests 
buried  in  endless  snows — Woden,  too,  was  one,  not  many.    He  w^as 
single.     He  was  undivided. 

Turning  to  the  Semitic  family  of  man,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  re- 
assert the  singular  and  tremendous  monotheism  with  which  the  religious 
history  of  that  family  begins.  In  all  the  branches  of  the  Semitic  race 
the  monotheistic  idea,  in  its  essential  oneness  and  personality,  was  assert- 
ed with  unparalleled  vigor  and  vehemence.  It  was  shouted  from  the 
summit  of  Moriah.  It  was  thundered  from  the  cliffs  of  Smai.  It  echoed 
in  the  deserts  and  reverberated  against  the  walled  towns  of  the  Jebusites. 
It  was  sung  in  exile  by  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates,  and  cried  aloud  in 
raphsody  and  song  by  all  the  savage  old  bards  and  prophets  of  Israel. 
And  centuries  afterward,  in  the'  blasted  deserts  of  Arabia,  the  camel- 
driver  of  Mecca  came  out  of  his  cave  with  the  same  vociferous  outcry; 
while  far  and  wide,  with  sword  and  fire,  through  smoke  and  blood  and 
desolation,  the  flaming  banner  of  Islam  carried  the  terrific  challenge  of 
the  oneness  and  indivisibility  of  God  to  the  idolatrous  tribes  of  Ish- 
mael. 


66 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


Everywhere  the  story  is  the  same.  Everywhere,  behind  the  fe;- 
ligious  thought  of  the  human  race,  rises  the  sky-towering  and  subhme 
figure  of  the  One,  the  Integer,  the  Undivided,  wherefrom  have  flowed 
the  streams  of  theism  into  all  lands  and  nations. 

Let  us,  then,  briefly  trace  the  history  of  this  monotheistic  idea 
with  which  the  religious  thought  began.  What  became  of  the  grand 
Integer,  the  Unit,  the  Undivided,  the  One  of  the  beginning?  I  answer 
that  the  human  imagination,  under  the  dominion  of  the  differentiating 
forces,  divided  the  One  into  many.  And  if  anywhere  in  the  world  the 
distinctly  monotheistic  idea  has  been  preserved — as  it  has  been — it  has 
been  through  the  agency  of  forces  peculiar  and  extraordinary.  The 
general  direction  of  the  religious  thought  of  mankind  has  been  di- 
vergent. It  has  widened,  parted,  separated  by  repulsion  and 
analysis.  It  has  radiated,  scattered,  flashed  outward  Uke  the  dispersed 
and  splintered  radiance  of  a  torch.  This  is  the  history  of  theism;  hrst, 
one  God,  supreme  and  high,  above  nature  and  beyond ;  then,  the  sec- 
ond stage  of  God,  manifested  in  and  through  the  varied  aspects  and  * 
forms  of  nature ;  then,  the  third  stage,  in  which  the  forms  and  aspects 
of  nature  appeared  as  God  or  gods.  This  last  is  the  epoch  of  poly- 
theism, with  its  attendant  phenomena  of  art  and  idolatry.  Then  the 
final  stage,  in  which  nature  is  God,  and  God  is  nature — one  and  the 
same,  interconvertible,  merely  a  difference  of  expression  for  a  common 
fact.  And  this  is  pantheism,  the  last  aspect  of  the  theistic  evolution. 
When  this  is  reached  the  differentiating  tendency  can  go  no  further. 
The  tremendous  frame  and  substance  of  nature  at  the  last  absorbs  the 
shivered  and  splintered  radii  of  the  god-thought,  and  with  this  absorp- 
tion the  really  theistic  concept  of  the  universe  expires.  The  analytic 
force,  as  applied  to  the  Infinite  Unit,  can  work  no  farther  outwards ; 
it  falls  exhausted ;  it  ceases  to  operate  and  dies. 

Such  is  a'general  outline  of  the  course  which  the  speculative  religious 
thought  of  mankind  has  run  under  the  influence  of  the  differentiating  ten- 
dency. I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  in  all  ages  an^  among  all  peoples  the  pro- 
cess has  been  so  exact  and  logical  as  I  have  here  drawn  it;  but  the  general 
course  has  ever  been  in  the  direction  indicated.  From  the  singleness 
of  monotheism  to  God  displayed  m  nature;  from  that  to  polytheism, 
idolatry  and  art ;  from  these  to  the  pantheistic  concept  of  the  universe, 
outward  and  outward  by  the  diverging  and  dispersing  tendencies  of 
analysis,  until  only  the  absolutism  of  nature  remains  in  our  clutches 
and  crucible  of  that  great  Integer  whose  supernatural  effulgence  over- 
shadowed us  at  the  beginning, — such  has  been  the  seemingly  natural 
course  of  theism  during  the  first  half  of  the  world's  history.  From  the 
great  Father  of  Heaven,  displayed  in  such  grandeur  in  the  hymns  of 


A(;TON  LECTURE??. 


r>7 


Ihe  dlder  Veda  all  the  way  down  to  Buddhistic  liihilisnl ;  fVoiii  the  per- 
sonal almightiness  of  the  Scandinavian  Woden  \.6  that  thing  called  the 
Absolute  in  the  philosophy  of  Mill  and  Spencer;  ft-om  the  Jehovah 
Elohim  of  Moses  to  the  atheistic  rationalism  of  the  Rabbi  Wise;  and 
from  the  one  high  God  believed  in  by  Socrates  tO  the  pantheism  of 
Goethe,  it  is  all  one  story — the  story  of  a  divergence,  a  differentiation 
— a  process  outwards  by  resolution  and  analysis  whereby  the  mighty 
monotheism  of  the  past  has  been  reduced  to  the  half-pantheistic  and 
half-nihilistic  absolutism  of  the  current  philosophy.  Such,  according 
to  my  opinion,  has  been  the  general  effect  of  the  differentiating  ten- 
dency as  applied  to  the  central  idea  in  religion.  I  shall  refer  to  the 
subject  again,  by  and  by,  and  can  not  even  now  proceed  to  a  different 
aspect  of  the  question  without  calling  your  attention  to  a  very  signifi- 
cant fact.  The  fact  is  this,  that  the  preservation  of  the  monotheistic 
idea  in  modern  times,  is  by  no  means  to  be  set  down  to  the  credit  of 
the  Hebrew  race.  In  ancient  times  it  was  different ;  but  since  the  ad- 
vent of  Christ,  since  the  Jews  in  that  advent  mi.ssed  their  golden  op- 
portunity of  incorporating  humanity  with  the  austere  elohistic  concept 
of  the  Pentateuch,  the  tendency  toward  pantheism  in  the  Jewish  specu- 
lative theology  has  been  as  manifest  as  in  any  other  in  the  world.  The 
most  noted  Hebrew  teacher  in  the  United  States  is  notoriously  a  skeptic 
of  the  pantheistic  school. 

•  Turning,  then,  from  what  may  be  called  the  central  thought  in 
religion,  and  entering  upon  a  review  of  religious  institutions  as  contra- 
distinguished from  the  ideas  which  they  are  intended  to  embody  and 
preserve,  w^e  find  the  same  analytic  and  differentiating  tendency  every- 
where prevailing.  The  ancient  oracles  which  were  in  some  sense  the 
glory  of  anti(juity,  parted  in  the  lapse  of  time  into  a  thousand  local 
fountains  of  imaginary  inspiration.  There  were  twenty  sorts  of  Apollo 
and  fifteen  different  Zeuses,  and  ten  times  as  many  shrines  and  temples 
to  each.  To  understand  the  theological  intricacies  of  Egypt  required 
the  study  of  a  life-time,  so  much  were  the  institutions  and  ceremonies 
of  religion  ramified  and  tangled.  'I'he  i)riests  of  the  Eternal  city  could 
never  sufficiently  vary  and  inflect  the  religious  system  and  ceremonials 
of  the  republic.  And  if  we  pass  from  these  obscure  and  mythological 
forms  of  faith  to  the  establishment  of  an  actual,  concrete  religion,  by  the 
introduction  of  Christianity  at  Rome,  we  shall  soon  find  the  .same  tend- 
ency towards  divergence  and  differentiation  at  work  among  the  organic 
forms  and  rituals  of  the  new  faith.  Crlance  back,  for  a  moment,  to 
that  time  in  the  history  of  the  Roman  Empire  when  the  solidarity  of 
the  Papal  church  was  at  last  an  accomplished  fact.  You  may  say  it 
was  in  the  reign  of  Theodosius,  just  before  the  beginning  of  the  bar- 


68 


ACtON  LECTURES. 


barian  inroads;  or,  taking  another  view  of  the  case,  you  may  set  the 
epoch  at  the  accession  of  Hildebrand,  in  A.  D.  1073.  It  is  only  a  dif- 
ference of  dates.  I  say  that  the  solidarity  of  the  Roman  church  be 
came  an  established  fact.  But  how  well  w^as  it  maintained  ?  What 
has  been  the  history  of  the  Christian  organization  (observe  I  say  organ- 
ization, not  idea,)  from  that  far  day,  when  Rome  was  an  integer,  down 
to  the  present,  when  the  world  is  filled  with  sects  ?  I  answer,  it  has 
been  a  history  of  endless  insurrections,  divisions,  and  divergencies. 
Through  the  long,  black  nights  of  the  Middle  Age  the  schismatic  tend- 
ency was  always  rife  in  the  very  heart  and  core  of  the  Papal  power.  It 
was  ever  ready  to  burst  forth  and  split  the  Romish  See  into  fragments. 
There  never  was  a  day  in  the  history  of  the  Church  when  insurrection- 
ists and  rebels  were  not  busy,  when  reforms  were  not  openly  preached, 
when  protestantism  was  not  proclaimed  and  practiced.  Now  it  is  St. 
Ambrose  boldly  crying  out  for  the  freedom  of  reason  and  of  conscience. 
Now  it  is  St.  Hilary  and  St.  Martin  openly  denying  the  right  of  the 
Church  to  enforce  belief  by  compulsion.  Now  it  is  Hincmar,  the 
French  archbishop  of  Rheims,  declaring  his  purpose  to  make  the 
Church  of  France  independent  of  papal  authority,  and,  when  the  Pope 
threatened  the  vengeance  of  excommilnication,  indifferently  replying, 
si  exco7nniunicaturus  venefit,  extommunicatus  abibit — if  he  comes  here  ex- 
communicating, he  will  go  away  excommunicated !  It  was  an  epoch 
of  schisms.  Heresy  followed  heresy  ;  and  all  the  compressive  and  irpn 
despotism  of  the  central  ecclesiastical  power  could  not  prevail  to  hold 
in  one  the  hostile  organic  elements.  Now  it  burst  out  in  southern 
France,  and  now  in  Bohemia.  Anon  the  resolute  monk  of  Witten- 
berg renewed  the  battle  for  liberty.  Rome  lost  a  third  of  her  heritage 
at  one  blow.  Wickliffe  fought  also  in  England,  and  Calvin  at  Geneva. 
It  was  an  era  of  insurrections  and  war.  Germany  was  emancipated. 
England  was  emancipated,  in  part.  The  oneness  of  Rome  was  gone 
forever.  The  unit  burst  into  multiplicity — the  elements  were  freed  by 
dispersion.  But  the  tendency  stopped  not  with  a  mere  emancipation 
from  papal  despotism.  In  liberated  England  and  Germany  the 
schismatic  force  worked  on  and  on.  New  sects  burst  out  of  the  side 
of  sects,  and  out  of  these  still  newer,  until  there  were  almost  as  many 
warring  parties  and  institutions  in  religion  as  there  had  been  rival, 
Apollos  and  Zeuses  in  the  old  Greek  pantheon.  It  was  a  jargon  of 
Arminian  and  Calvinist,  of  High-churchmen  and  Dissenters,  of  Presby- 
terians and  Independents,  of  Baptists  and  Quakers.  It  was  Gog  and 
Magog  in  the  earth.  The  Puritans  were  thrust  into  exile.  The  New 
World  rose  out  of  the  waters.  At  last  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the 
American  wilderness  was  heard.    It  was  the  outcry  of  young  Roger 


ACTON   LECTURES.  69 

Williams  by  the  Bay  of  the  Narragansetts.  There  he  stood.  In  him 
the  differentiating  tendency  exhausted  itself  and  died.  He  was  the 
last  result  of  the  analytics  of  religious  warfare.  In  the  Southern  col- 
nies,  Whitefield  and  the  Moravians  were  kindred  spirits  with  the  great 
protestant  of  New  England. 

From  Constantine  to  George  Fox !  From  Hildebrand  to  Roger 
Williams!  What  an  abyss!  What  a  scene  !  What  a  transformation  ! 
Such  is  a  sketch — the  merest  sketch — of  the  course  and  tendency  of 
the  institutions  of  religion  under  the  influence  of  the  differentiating 
process. 

I  pass,  then,  in  the  second  place,  to  the  consideration  of  the  an- 
alytical or  divergent  force  as  applied  to  the  Institutions  of  Society.  Hu- 
man society — all  social  institutions,  I  may  say — at  the  first  were  07ie,  an 
Integer.  It  was  a  family  vvith  a  patriarch  standing  in  the  midst.  The 
whole  social  system  consisted  of  so  much  and  no  more.  Outside  of 
this  patriarchal  germ  and  nucleus  there  was  no  society  at  all.  Neither 
was  there  any  state  except  the  patriarch.  He  was  the  state  and  it  was 
he.  L  Etat  c'  esivioi,  said  Louis  XIV.,  I  am  the  state.  The  assertion 
of  the  grand  monarch  was  a  falsehood,  but  the  patriarch  who  stands 
back  yonder  as  the  Integer  of  the  institutions  of  primitive  society 
might  have  truthfully  said,  'T  am  the  state,"  for  he  gathered  up  and 
represented  in  himself  all  the  social,  civil  and  political  functions  of  his 
age.  He  was  executive,  judge  and  law-giver.  He  was  general  and 
army.  He  was  secretary  of  the  exchequer  and  collector  of  customs. 
He  was  minister  plenipotentiary  and  commissioner  of  agriculture ;  at- 
torney-general and  posse  comitatus.  He  was,  to  say  nothing  of  his  ec- 
clesiastical office,  the  germinal  unit  of  primeval  civilization. 

But  what  has  been  the  history  of  the  multiform  institutions  which 
sprang  from  the  oneness  of  the  patriarch?  I  answer:  It  is  a  history 
of  divergence,  of  separation,  of  analytical  processes  and  differentiating 
tendencies.  Outward  and  outward  like  a  fan  have  spread  the  radii  of 
social  organism.  Further  and  further  apart  have  the  diverging  forces 
of  civilization  carried  the  various  civil,  political  and  governmental  in- 
stitutions of  mankind.  Every  epoch  in  history  has  been  marked  with  a 
renewal  of  social  analytics.  Every  generation  has  witnessed  new  rami- 
fications, new  departures  and  new  divisions  in  these  lines  of  force 
whereby  the  organic  forms  of  human  society  have  been  carried  forward; 
until  to-day,  after  the  lapse  of  thousands  upon  thousands  of  years, 
after  the  struggles  and  storms  and  fiery  vicissitudes  of  ages,  we  stand 
at  last  face  to  face  in  this  broad  arena  of  the  Western  World — aye,  in 
the  heated  and  smoking  arena  of  the  Eastern  World  as  well — with  the 
tremendous  and  all-absorbing  problems  of  socialism.    From  the  patri- 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


i 


arch  to  the  socialist !  That  is  the  history  of  mankind  reduced  to  a 
caption  of  six  words.  That  is,  it  is  the  history  of  f/ie  first  half  of  the 
career  of  the  human  race — for  I  am  just  as  sure  as  I  can  be  of  any- 
thing that  still  lies  half-hidden  under  the  curtains  of  the  future  that 
just  as  soon  as  the  differentiating  and  divergent  tendency  which  has  so 
long  held  sway  over  the  institutions  and  movements  of  mankind  has 
done  its  work,  we  shall  enter  upon  a  new  and  marvelous  epoch  of  con- 
vergence and  integration.  I'his  is  the  manifest  destiny  of  the  great  to- 
come.  Out  of  the  oneness  and  simplicity  of  the  patriarch  arose  the 
rude  tribal  and  aristocratic  institutions  of  antiquity.  Upon  the  ruins 
of  these  were  built  up  the  storied  and  colossal  monarchies  and  empires 
of  the  old  and  later  ages.  Out  of  the  wrecks  of  these,  slowly  wrought 
by  centuries  of  devastating  wars  and  shattering  revolutions,  have 
emerged  the  liberal  structures  of  quasi-monarchy,  of  repubhc  and  de- 
mocracy, with  powers  proceeding  from  the  people  and  exercised  by 
their  authority.  Through  these  the  leaven  of  socialism,  working  down 
to  the  capillaries  of  society,  portend  an  imminent  crisis,  not  to  say  a 
shocking  catastrophe,  throughout  the  world;  and  over  these  all,  from 
first  to  last,  from  patriarch  to  communist,  the  presidency  of  a  differ- 
entiating force  which  will,  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  exhaust  itself 
and  die  with  the  accomplishment  of  socialism.  Such  is,  in  a  single 
synopsis,  the  history  of  those  institutions  which  man,  in  his  associated 
capacity,  has  projected  in  the  world.  Socialism  is,  in  the  political 
world,  pr.ecisely  what  pantheism  is  in  theology. 

Now  it  is  under  cover  and  protection  of  the  institutions  of  society 
that  the  ordinary  affairs  of  human  life  are  carried  forward.  It  is  within 
the  social  compact  that  men  plow  the  fields  and  bridge  the  rivers,  level 
the  hills  and  dyke  the  ocean.  Here  they  build  their  towns  and  erect 
their  barricades  against  the  encroachments  of  barbarism.  Here  they 
rear  their  embattled  palaces  and  play  their  games  and  celebrate  their 
victories.  Here  they  cultivate  the  arts  of  mechanism,  contrive  the  engin- 
ery of  war,  invent  the  implements  of  peace.  And  it  is  evident  that 
the  order  and  tendencies  of  the  institutions  of  society  will,  in  a  large 
measure,  determine  the  order  and  tendencies  of  physical  contrivance 
and  the  mechanical  applications  of  force.  Where  these  institutions 
are  in  a  process  of  differentiation  and  analytical  divergence,  the  genius 
of  mechanism  and  contrivance  will  also  work  outward  by  divergence 
and  "analysis.  In  fact,  the  whole  physical  side  of  civilization  takes 
the  form  and  fashion  of  these  social  and  political  institutions  under 
which  the  arts  and  sciences  are  called  into  existence. 

I  pass  on  to  the  consideration  of  the  histitiitions  of  Language.  Here, 
first  of  all,  we  come  to  the  wQrl.d-wi4e  fact  of  language  itself — language 


4 


I 


ACTON   LECTURES.  /jf 

the  product  of  human  reason,  the  distinguishing  mark  and  faculty  of 
man,  and  the  test,  no  doubt,  by  which  rational  being  throughout 
the  universe  is  discriminated  from  all  other  forms  and  grades  of  intelli- 
gence. 

What,  then,  has  been  the  history  of  language  from  the  beginning 
until  now?  I  answer  that  of  all  the  facts  brought  out  in  the  career  of 
the  human  race,  no  other  so  succinctly  and  lucidly  illustrates  the  di- 
verging and  analytical  process  as  does  the  fact  of  language.  The  whole 
history  of  linguistic  phenomena  and  tendencies  is  summed  up  in  a  dia- 
gram with  trunk  and  spreading  branches,  parting,  and  dividing,  and 
bursting  out  in  bloom  and  leafage,  until  it  fills  the  world.  Scarcely 
can  you  illustrate  the  simplest  process  in  the  development  and  history 
of  human  speech  without  adopting  the  analogy  of  a  tree  ;  for  that  is  the 
one  fact  taken  from  external  nature  which  gives  a  true  similitude  for 
the  growth  and  tendency  of  language.  But  to  be  more  specific, — in 
the  beginning  the  language  of  man  was  one,  not  many.  It  was  an 
integer.  All  the  tendencies  of  linguistic  science  run  clearly  in  this 
direction.  Every  index  on  the  sign-board  of  language  points  silently 
backwards  to  the  one  speech  of  the  beginning.  Professor  Max  Muller, 
the  prince  of  scholars — after  years  and  years  of  the  most  patient  research 
and  reflection,  and  as  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  controversy — makes 
this  sterling  declaration  :  "  We  have  now  examined  all  possible  forms 
which  language  can  assume,  and  it  only  remains  for  us  to  ask,  Can  we 
reconcile  with  the  three  fundamental  forms  of  language,  namely,  the 
radical,  the  terminational,  and  the  inflectional,  the  admission  of  one 
common  origin  for  all  human  speech?  I  answer,  decidedly.  Yes.'' 
•  That  settles  it  so  far  as  the  highest  authority  known  to  scholarship  is 
concerned ;  and  it  only  remains  for  us,  beginning  with  that  far-qff  unit, 
the  integer  of  human  speech,  to  note  the  processes  whereby  language 
and  linguistic  mstitutions  have  grown  outward,  filling  the  world. 

In  this  case,  also,  as  in  the  case  of  the  institutions  of  religion  and 
society,  the  process  has  been  one  of  analytical  divergence  and  differ- 
entiation. From  the  far  beginning  until  now,  or,  at  any  rate,  until  a 
time  within  the  memory  of  men  now  living,  no  tendency  other  than 
that  of  separation  and  dispersion  may  be  recognized  in  all  the  history 
of  language.  Back  yonder  afar,  below  the  horizon  of  history,  we  see 
reflected  in  the  clear  mirrors  of  induction,  held  up  between  us  and  the 
dawn,  the  old  strong  tongues  of  Arya,  struggling  away  from  the  tri- 
literal  dialects  of  the  Semitic  tribes.  They  part  company.  They  di- 
verge. The  differentiating  power  is  upon  them.  They  scatter  to  the 
corners  of  Asia.  Then  out  of  ancient  Bactria  pour  the  famous  streams 
of  Aryan  speech,  first  into  the  valley  of  Indus  and  then  into  Persia. 


72 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


All  the  Southwest,  down  to  the  rocky  barriers  of  Arabia,  is  flooded- 
with  Sanskrit  and  Iranic  tongues.  Over  the  Bosphorus  and  island- 
wise,  across  the  Archipelago  came  the.  vanguards  into  Greece  and 
Italy  and  Spain.  It  is  the  Pelasgic  current  of  speech ;  then  the  Etrus- 
can ;  then  the  Celtic — all  one.  perhaps,  in  their  original  structure  and^ 
volume.  Then  the  Hellenic  branch  shoots  off,  and  then  the  Italic 
radicles,  first  set  at  Alba  Longa,  and  soon  to  bud  with  the  praises  of 
"the  Roman  race,  the  Albanian  fathers  and  walls-  of  lofty  Rome."' 
Last  ot  all,  and  swinging  vine-like  around  the  Caspian,-  the  snow-hard- 
ened stem  and  branch  of  Teutonism  with  its  sprouts  of  Maeso-Gothic 
and  Old  Norse,  curving  into  Europe  by  the  Danube,  and  filling  the- 
coasts  of  the  Baltic  with  dialects  hardy  as  the  ivy  and  odotfo-us  as  the 
mountain-green  that  grows  on  the  cliffs  in  winter.  By  and  by,,  in  the- 
later  historical  era,  the  Latin  oi  the  classics  divides  into  six  great  conti- 
nental tongues;  and  the  Teutonic  with  its  German  and  Englisi^  off- 
spring takes  half  of  the  world  for  its  inheritance. 

And  here  ayc  stand  to-day,  at  the  tip-ends  of  things,  half-hiddeS,- 
half-smothered,  among  the  leaves  and  blossoms  of  this  infinite  out- 
branching  of  human  speech ;  and  what  is  it  all  ? — what  but  the  form- 
and  likeness  of  a  vine,  growing  and  widening,  and  clambering  through 
the  world;  sprea'ding,  and  dividing,  and  twining;  laying  a  tender  leaf 
on  the  gently  closed  eyelids  of  every  sleeping  hope,  clasping  a  tendril 
around  the  throbbing  heart  of  every  swelling  aspiration,  and  putting  a 
fragrant  hly  on  the  snowy  bosom  of  every  holy  love  ? 

The  story  of  human  speech,  in  the  first  half  of  the  world's  career, 
has  been  a  story  of  outbranching,  of  separation,  of  divergence,  of  dif- 
ferentiating forces  working  ever  through  the  noisy  tongues  of  men. 

The  same  is  true  of  all  those  institutions  which  have  language  for 
their  basis  and  beginning.  How  is  it  with  science  ?  What  is  the  in- 
ductive method  but  an  application  and  interpretation  of  the  differen- 
tiating force  working  among  the  phenomena  of  nature  ?  What  has 
been  the  movement  and  general  direction  of  science  for  the  last  two 
centuries  and  a  half?  What,  but  a  universal  analysis,  a  resolution  of 
all  things  into  their  elementary  forms  by  the  process  of  differentiation  ? 

Science  began  with  the  consideration  of  an  integer.  The  integer 
was  nature ;  nature  was  one.  But  under  the  scrutiny  of  induction  and 
experiment  nature  divideid  into  parts.  The  earth  was  one  part  and  the 
heavens  the  other.  The  earth  also  divided  by  analysis.  It  became  earth 
proper  and  water,  and  air  and  fire.  The  heavens  divided  into  sun  and 
moon,  and  stars;  afterwards  into  suns,  and  planets,  and  comets,  and  ne- 
bulae. Again  the  earth,  and  the  air,  and  the  water,  divided  into  oxy- 
gen, and  hydrogen,  and  nitrogen,  and  carbon,  and  iron,  and  the  metals,. 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


73 


and  tiie  earths.  And  then  a  second  time  the  heavens  opened,  through 
the  spectroscope  as  at  first  they  had  opened  through  the  tele- 
scope, and,  lo !  the  self-same  elements  again.  The  identity  of  the 
fundamental  structure  of  universal  nature  flashed  out  like  a  revelation. 
Science  saw  that  she  had  grasped  the  bottom  facts  of  cosmos,  and  if 
she  saw  wisely  she  noted  the  fact  that  in  that  direction  she  could  go  no 
further.  So  far  as  the  analytical  process  was  concerned  she  was  at  her 
journey's  end.  ' 

When  Priestley  discovered  oxygen  the  pick  of  philosophy,  for  the 
first  time  in  the  history  of  the  world,  went  through  to  hard- 
pan.  When  a  chemist  has  hydrogen  in  his  receiver  that  ends  it. 
His  vocation  is  gone.  As  an  analyzer  he  feels  and  knows  that  his  work 
is  up.  He  has  the  bird  there  in  his  cage,  and  the  question  is  no  longer — 
What  is  it?  but,  What  am  I  going  to  do  with  it?  Just  there,  in  that 
moment,  the  differentiating  force  in  science  dies,  and  the  integral  cal- 
culus of  nature  sets  in.  It  is  a  grand  epoch,  a  crisis  of  intense  inter- 
est, when  the  chemist  arises  at  last  from  the  completed  processes  of  an- 
alysis with  the  elementary  substances  of  nature  all  safely  set  apart,  aad 
says:  "Now,  here  they  are.  What  shall  I  make?  How  shall  I  com- 
bine? What  are  the  possibilities  and  potencies  that  lie  hidden  in 
these  sixty-four  elements?  Farewell  analytics!  Farewell,  differen- 
tiating experiments  and  tedious  process  of  chemical  resolutions!  Wel- 
come, instead,  O,  genius  of  Integration.  I  seat  you  here  to  preside 
over  the  creative  works  of  the  hereafter." 

Such  is  the  language  of  science  and  philosophy  to-day.  She 
knows  that  the  old  work  is  ended  and  that  the  new  era  is  upon  her. 
Only  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  the  differentiating  force  in  scientific 
investigation  was  still  working  as  vigorously  as  at  any  time  since  the 
epoch  of  Bacon.  To-day  I  do  not  hesitate  to  assert  that  that  force  is 
expended,  and  that  physical  science  has  little  further  need  for  the  fiery 
heats  that  have  burned  so  long  under  the  crucibles  of  analysis.  The 
scientist  everywhere  feels  the  fine  forces  of  integration  taking  hold 
of  him  and  his  work.  His  career  as  a  destroyer  is  ended  and  his 
career  as  a  maker  is  begun. 

I  have  now  completed  that  part  of  our  inquiry  which  bears  rela- 
tion to  the  history  of  the  past.  The  remainder  must  in  some  measure 
be  prophetic.  I  turn  from  that  part  of  the  career  of  the  human  race 
which  is  already  accomplished  to  look  at  the  present  with  its  tendencies 
and  the  future  with  its  hopes.  I  say  with  W^hittier : 
Clasp,  angel  of  the  backward  look, 
The  brazen  covers  of  thy  book." 

Let  us  gaze  no  longer  upon  the  old  diverging  forces  of  civilization 
but  rather  on  the  new  creative  impulses  of  to-day. 


;4 


ACTON  LFXTURES. 


I  ventured  to  assert  at  the  outset  that  the  chief  interest  and,  1  may 
add,  the  glory  of  the  present  epoch  in  civihzation  is  found  in  the  fact 
that  we  have  reached  the  beginning  of  integration.  I  now  repeat  that 
statement.  I  declare,  as  a  deliberate  conviction,  resulting  from  not  a 
little  study  and  reflection  on  the  subject,  that  we  have  but  recently 
passed,  or,  perhaps,  are  now  passing,  that  supreme  middle  crisis  which 
marks  the  point  of  greatest  divergence  in  the  history  of  the  human 
race.  Geographically,  the  world  is  all  known.  It  is  inhabited.  Fur- 
ther ethnic  and  tribal  divisions  of  mankind  are  not  suggested  by  the 
situation.  Human  institutions — institutions  of  religion,  institutions  of 
society,  institutions  of  language — have  filled  our  planet.  They  have 
widened,  divided  and  spread  to  the  utmost  limit  of  their  tendency  in 
that  direction.  The  repulsive  disposition  is  appeased.  The  dispersive 
forces,  like  the  liberated  gases  of  an  explosive  compound,  are  satisfied 
and  sink  to  rest.  And  so  we  enter  upon  that  new  era  which  I  have 
called  the  Epoch  of  Integration. 

The  proposition  that  we  are  now  entering  upon  the  second  half  of 
tl"re  one  complete  career  of  humanity  may  be  established  with  a  multi- 
tude of  proofs.  No  fact  in  the  whole  range  of  philosophy  is  more 
clearly  indicated  by  the  signs  and  tendencies  around  us.  Everywhere 
the  thoughtful  man  can  see  the  fine  converging  lines  of  the  new  era 
flashing  like  the  faint  pencilings  of  sunlight  through  the  mists  and 
clouds ;  and  as  he  lies  awake  in  the  cool  shadow  of  the  summer  night 
he  feels  what  he  can  not  see — the  drawing  of  strange  forces  and  the 
drifting  of  new  tides  on  whose  bosom  he  is  borne  onward  toward  the 
mysteries  and  realities  of  the  future. 

The  facts  toward  which  we  are  drifting  are  integers.  The  realities 
of  the  hereafter  are  units.  They  are  not  phenomena  outbranching  and 
spreading  like  the  aspects  of  the  past — not  flashing  divergent  like  the 
widening  glare  of  a  head-light  down  the  track — but  phenomena  con- 
verging and  tending  downward  towards  results  that  gather  up  all  pre- 
ceding results  and  are  themselves  in  turn  absorbed  in  the  still  greater 
and  more  singular  results  beyond.  In  the  future  there  are  no  facts 
that  are  not  whole ;  and  in  Heaven  there  are  no  decimal  fractions !  It 
is  time  for  humanity  to  bear  some  fruit.  The  efflorescent  age  o.  man 
is  past.  It  is  about  the  season  for  him  to  do  something — to  make 
something  that  shall  bear  a  relation  to  the  destinies  of  the  time  to  come. 

It  is  evident  that  man  has  his  hand  in  and  his  eye  out  to  catch  the 
general  tendency  of  the  epoch.  He  is  up  and  doing,  half  consciously  and 
half  unconsciously  working  out  the  problems  of  the  age  he  lives  in. 
But  to  be  more  specific — what  is  the  present  general  course  and  tend- 
ency of  religious  affairs  in  the  world  ?    I  answer,  without  hesitation, 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


75 


convergent^  synthefic,  centralizing.  This  could  not  have  been  truthfully 
said  a  hundred  years  ago.  It  can  be  truthfully  'said  to-day.  Every- 
where a  disposition  can  be  plainly  noted  on  the  part  of  those  who  give 
direction  to  the  religious  beliefs  and  practices  of  men,  to  neglect  the  non- 
essentials of  religion  and  to  combine  on  the  line  of  the  essentials ;  and 
it  seems  not  improbable  that  the  essentials  will  be  reduced  to  the  soli- 
tary and  sublime  principle  of  behaving  yourself  I 

The  process  of  creating  a  new  sect  is  already,  in  these  first  days 
of  integration,  an  up-hill  and  strenuous,  if  not  an  impossible,  work. 
When  a  man  undertakes  it  he  soon  finds  that  he  is  pulling  against  the 
whole  spirit  and  gravitation  of  his  times.  Mankind  will  no  longer  agi- 
tate for  the  sake  of  a  windy  theory. 

Sectarian  prejudice  and  bigotry  are  well-nigh  broken  down. 
Thoughtful  men  have  come  to  doubt  whether,  after  all,  it  requires 
some  peculiar,  complicated  and  well-pronounced  denominational  shib- 
boleth to  open  the  gates  of  the  crystal  skies.  The  old  antipathies  of 
sects,  once  bristling  in  armor,  and  too  often  smeared  with  blood,  are 
no  longer  able  to  quench  the  rising  spirit  of  generous  brotherhood 
which  inspires  the  breast  of  every  really  good  man  in  the  world.  The 
spiritual  leaders  of  mankind  all  around  the  horizon  are  fraternizmg. 
Calvinist,  Arminian,  and  Quaker  do  really  clas])  hands  across  the 
bloody  chasm  of  ages.  I  confess  that  they  sometimes  do  so  as  if  they 
feared  an  earthquake.  But  there  is  no  cause  of  fear.  The  earth  will 
not  open  to  swallow  them  up  for  such  a  trifle.  The  Church  of  En- 
gland is  taking  shelter  under  the  very  eaves  of  the  Vatican.  And 
it  is  even  hoped  that  Rome  herself  will,  on  some  fine  day,  take 
down  the  pictures  of  her  saints  and  rush  forth  into  the  arms  of  protest- 
antism. 

What  does  it  all  prove?  Simply  this:  It  proves  the  abolition 
of  non-essentials.  It  proves  the  presence  of  a  generalizing  and  inte- 
grating tendency  even  in  theology,  the  most  conservative  of  all  the 
sciences.  It  proves  the  rallying  of  forces  long  divided,  around  the 
central  lines  and  ideas  of  religion.  It  proves  the  rapid  abatement  of 
sectarian  prejudice,  and  the  softening  of  denominational  animosities — 
the  gradual  merging  of  the  beliefs  and  practices  and  institutions  of  the 
religious  world  into  one  phalanx  for  the  defense  of  a  common  fortress. 
Whoever  will  put  himself  into  harmony  with  the  spirit  and  genius  of 
the  age  must  recognize  and  accept  in  full  measure  this  integrating  and 
synthetic  tendency  among  the  institutions  and  ceremonials  of  religion. 

The  same  law  holds  with  equal  force  among  the  Institutiojis  of  So- 
ciety. Look  abroad  at  the  civil  governments  and  political  structures  of 
the  world.    Whither  do  they  tend,  and  to  what?    I  answer:  They 


76 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


approximate.  They  assume  a  common  type.  They  converge.  They 
come  together.  The  two  extremes  of  unHcensed  despotism  and  unli- 
censed democracy  are  hardly  any  longer  to  be  found  in  the  earth.  The 
great  consolidated  and  unlimited  empires  of  eastern  Asia  gradually  re- 
lax. The  iron  form  of  rigid  tyranny  unbends.  The  ferocious  aspect 
of  absoluteism  softens,  and  the  stony  face  of  the  sphinx  puts  on  a 
smile  in  the  glow  of  the  new  morning.  On  the  other  hand,  all  the 
forms  of  irresponsible  democracy  and  pseudo  republicanism  vanish  in 
smoke  and  vapor.  Somewhere  along  the  middle  line  of  rational  self- 
government  the  political  institutions  of  mankind  are  certainly  and 
silently  converging.  ^ 

Down  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  analytical  processes 
were  still  potent  among  the  forces  of  government,  driving  the  elements 
asunder.  The  American  colonies,  already  bristling  with  animosities 
and  antagonism,  and  flying  further  apart  with  every  breath  of  agita- 
tion, burst  off  from  the  side  of  monarchy.  There  was  fighting  and 
bloodshed  in  the  cause  of  the  rebellion.  Peace  came  ;  but  union- 
seemed  impossible.  The  confederation  was  ?i  pis-aller — a  go-between. 
As  a  government,  it  was  *a  sham  and  a  mockery.  Jefferson,  and  Han- 
cock, and  Henry  were  under  the  dominion  of  the  old  forces  of  differ 
entiation.  To  them,  government  meant  tyranny  and  the  loss  of  human 
rights.  On  the  other  hand,  Washington — peace  to  the  majestic  shade 
of  the  hero  and  statesman  ! — and  Adams,  and  Franklin  felt  the  virtue 
and  beauty  of  the  new  forces  of  integration.  The  last  years  of  their 
lives  were  devoted  to  the  work  of  building  a  union.  The  Constitu- 
tion was  a  product  of  the  integrating  forces — not  perfect,  indeed,  else 
Grant  had  never  fought,  or  Lincoln  died  a  martyr. 

About  this  idea  of  self-government,  I  repeat,  the  political  institu- 
tions of  the  world  are  steadily  converging.  The  England  of  to-day  is 
not  the  England  of  the  Stuarts,  not  the  England  of  the  Georges.  She 
is  more  like  the  United  States.  The  United  States  of  to-day  are  not 
the  United  States  of  Jefferson,  or  of  Polk.  They  are  more  like  En- 
gland. We  have  somewhat  strengthened  our  shaky  republicanism — 
at  what  a  cost.  Heaven  only  can  contain  the  record ;  and  the  peoples 
abroad  have  abated,  in  no  small  measure,  the  sham  pretences  of  feudal 
monarchy.  The  kingdoms  of  the  world  approximate  a  common  type 
— a  type  of  limitations  and  defined  prerogatives.  This  type,  when 
once  it  shall  be  perfected,  is  the  destined  unit  of  the  hereafter ;  and  it 
is  no  vain  Mattery  of  ourselves  to  say  that  this  imperial  Republic, 
standing  glorified  at  the  end  of  the  ages,  is  the  shadow  of  that  unit. 
The  forces  of  integration  are  working  upon  and  through  the  so- 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


71 


cial  structures  of  the  world;  and  the  integer  that  is  to  be,  the  govern- 
ment of  the  great  to-come,  already  stands  half  revealed  in  the  shadows 
of  the  nearer  future. 

In  like  manner  the  law  of  integration  is  working  steadily,  towards 
the  production  of  that  ideal  citizenship  which  the  poets  of  philosophy, 
from  Plato  to  Robert  Dale  Owen,  have  sighed  for  in  their  visions  and 
dreams.  This  ideal  is  no  chimera,  no  whim  of  the  heat-oppressed 
brain  of  enthusiasm.  It  is  a  reality — or  will  be.  The  future  holds  in 
her  apocalypse  the  figure  of  a  man  \n\\o  makes  his  own  laws,  and  keeps 
them ;  who  serves  the  state,  and  yet  is  free ;  who  keeps  his  covenant 
without  a  bond,  and  his  word  without  an  oath ;  who  signs  no 
contracts  and  breaks  no  pledges;  who  lives  for  himself  without 
selfishness,  and  dies  for  others  without  regret.  In  the  memcry  of 
such  a  man  the  story  of  thugs  and  constables,  of  tax-collectors  and 
hangmen,  of  detectives  and  vigilantes,  and  all  the  race  of  quacks  and 
cormorants  and  vampires,  will  linger  in  the  form  of  a  tradition,  which 
he  recites  as  a  legend  of  antiquity  to  his  wondering  and  incredulous 
children.  And  towards  this  type  of  ideal  citizenship  the  integrating 
tendencies  of  civilization  are  gradually  converging.  They  who  will 
may  despise  and  deride  it  as  a  dream,  but  they  will  awake  by  and  by 
to  find  the  fulfillment  of  prophecy. 

To  what  extent  the  socialistic  agitations  of  the  world  may  tend  to 
produce  the  man  of  the  future,  I  do  not  know.  One  thing  is  certain  : 
he  will  never  be  born  of  despotism.  Out  of  the  brazen  loins  of  tyranny 
never  has  anything  good  arisen.  Absoluteism  is  the  mother  of  all 
slaves. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  socialism  in  the  world — the  one  rational, 
the  other  irrational  The  one  is  the  socialism  of  the  philosophers  and 
sages;  the  other,  the  socialism  of  the  rabble  and  the  mob.  The  one 
is  above  the  present  level  of  American  citizenship,  and  the  other  below 
it.  The  one  by  constant  approximations  brings  us  nearer  and  nearer  to 
the  standard  of  a  universal  and  ideal  manhood ;  the  other  gravitates  ever 
downward  toward  the  howling  canaille  that  runs  with  bloody  jaws 
to  devour  and  kill.  There  is  as  much  difference  between  the  lofty  and 
philanthropic  socialism,  toward  which  we  all  aspire,  and  the  destroying 
mobocratic  socialism  that  roars  beneath  as  there  is  between  the  angel 
of  the  sun  and  the  devil.  The  socialism  of  the  future  is  not  the  social- 
ism of  the  incendiary,  the  robber  and  the  assassin. 

I  rejoice  that  in  American  society  there  is  not  much  mobocracy. 
I  know  we  have  a  bugbear  called  communism,  but  it  is  mostly  con- 
structed of  straw  and  paint.    It  is  raw-head  and  bloody-bones  set  up  to 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


scare.  The  politicians  are  shouting  socialism  in  order  to  frighteii  th6 
average  citizen  into  voting  the  straight  ticket.  The  candidate  wakes 
up  out  of  a  discordant  dream  in  the  stillness  of  midnight  and  sees  an 
enormous  bat  with  bloody  eyes  and  satanic  wings,  ten  feet  from  tip  to 
tip,  hovering  above  his  couch.  He  leaps  out  of  bed,  runs  into  the 
alley  and  sets  up  a  shout  of  coNunnnisni !  coniniunisni  1  and  when  the 
startled  neighbors  come  in  to  see  what  the. matter  is  they  find  no  bat  at 
all :  it  is  a  goblin  of  the  brain. 

There  may  be  a  socialism  of  the  future,  but  if  so,  it  means  not  a 
rabble,  not  a  mob  with  torches  and  bludgeons  and  swords,  but  a  higher, 
nobler  and  purer  citizenship  than  we  have  ever  yet  attained.  It  means 
exact  justice  and  equal  rights  before  the  law  for  all  men — white  men, 
red  men,  black  men,  yellow  men  and  7<;'^?-men!  It  means  not  the  de- 
struction of  property,  but  an  equitable  distribution  of  the  proceeds  of 
labor.  It  means,  mark  it  well,  not  the  establisment,  in  our  country  or 
in  any  country  under  heaven,  of  an  aristocracy  and  landed  peerage  on 
the  one  hand  and  a  degraded  peasantry  and  ignorant  horde  on  the 
other,  but  the  creation  of  a  single  order  of  nobility  in  all  the  earth — 
the  nobility  of  worth  and  virtue.  To  the  establishment  of  this  one 
grand  order,  the  Knighthood  of  Man,  the  integrating  laws  of  human 
society  are  inevitably  tending. 

Finally  the  law  of  integration  is  working  marvelously  among  all 
the  Institiitons  of  Language.  I  have  already  had  occasion  to  call  your 
attention  to  the  fact  that  science — every  kind  of  science — has  entered 
upon  the  synthetic  phase  of  investigation.  The  chemist  and  the  phil- 
osopher alike  begin  to  build,  to  construct,  to  create.  I  do  not  know, 
but  I  will  venture  the  assertion,  that  in  the  last  ten  years  every  profes- 
sor of  natural  science  in  this  Nation  has  observed  in  himself 
and  in  his  students  a  marked  disposition  to  pass  over  from  the  difter- 
ential  to  the  integral  side  of  science.  Let  every  student  who  feels 
and  recognizes  that  tendency  know  that  in  obeying  it  he  passes  through 
and  over  the  most  remarkable  crisis  in  the  history  of  human  thought, 
for  in  so  doing  he  emerges  swiftly  from  the  differentiating  and  analytical 
processes  of  the  past  and  enters  the  converging  and  synthetic  processes 
of  the  future.  The  destructive  analysis  of  material  forms  has  ended, 
and  the  grander  epoch  of  construction  has  begun. 

This  is  an  age  of  invention,  and  invention  is  integration.  He 
who  walks  by  the  light  of  differentiation  and  analysis  may  be  a  dis. 
coverer,  but  he  can  not  be  an  inventor.  To  invent  is  to  combine  the 
elements  and  forces  of  nature  in  an  integer — an  integer  that  will  work 
for  its  creator  and  carry  the  burdens  of  the  world.  The  iron  Hercules 
that  comes  panting,  and  roaring,  and  smoking  around  the  curve,  out- 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


79 


howling  the  blasts  of  the  winter  night,  and  looking  steadily  with  his 
great  lidless  eye  down  the  track,  is  one  of  the  living  units  of  the  New 
Era.  The  locomotive  is  the  first  benificent  giant  to  issue  from  the 
loins  of  integration. 

So,  also  of  the  telegraph,  along  whose  slender  nerve  the  first  of 
the  mighty  jmponderables  came  down  from  Heaven  to  flash  on  its 
swift-winged  mission.  So,  also,  of  the  floating  palace  of  the  seas,  im- 
pelled at  the  will  of  the  master  against  the  impotent  bluster  of  the  winds 
and  tides.  So  of  all  the  infinite  applications  of  steam  to  turn  the  mul- 
tifarious enginery  of  progress.  Under  the  old  regime,  when  the  forces 
of  human  thought  spread  outward  by  divergence,  invention  was  im- 
possible. Under  the  dominion  of  the  new  forces  it  is  impossible  that 
men  should  not  invent.  And,  to  all  human  appearance,  we  are  only 
now  in  the  beginning  of  what  the  inventor's  genius  is  destined  to  ac- 
complish for  the  further  amelioration  of  the  condition  of  mankind. 
Jablochofif,  the  Russian  scientist,  more  than  a  year  ago  planted  an  en- 
gine among  the  broken  stones  in  the  basement  of  the  old  temple  of 
Neptune,  at  Rome,  and,  with  his  wires  stretched  along  the  Via  Nazio- 
nale,  set  the  Eternal  City  blazing  with  the  splendors  of  the  electric 
light.  Marquis  of  Vienna  has  been  riding  back  and  forth  through  the 
night  on  the  Austrian  locomotives  with  a  headlight  of  his  own  inven- 
tion glaring  down  the  track,  with  the  vividness  of  day,  for  more  than 
seven  miles.  And  Edison — our  own  Edison,  born  of  an  American 
father  and  an  American  mother,  son  of  the  people,  modest  and  calm  in 
his  confidence,  taking  both  praise  and  censure  with  the  same  unwaver- 
ing mood,  working  by  night  and  by  day  with  undiminished  patience, 
while  the  devils  of  neuralgia  have  gone  tearing  through  his  face  and 
head ;  Edison,  hard-handed  child  of  toil  and  genius  now  grown  to  the 
stature  of  a  philosopher,  will  yet  make  the  night-time  of  all  this  New 
World  blaze  with  the  glories  of  the  aurora  borealis. 

The  end  is  not  yet.  Even  as  I  -write  the  story  comes  that  Profes- 
sor Lamb,  of  New  York  City,  has  discovered  and  made  available  a 
new  form  of  vulcanite,  whereby  all  the  textile  fabrics  of  the  world  are 
to  be  rendered  absolutely  impervious  to  the  action  of  water.  It  is  con- 
fidently announced  as  the  greatest  discovery  of  the  age.  The  finest 
and  most  delicate  fabrics — so  the  legend  runs — when  treated  with  this 
wonderful  compound,  which  is  produced  from  the  common  milk-weed 
of  the  fields,  come  out  in  a  state  which,  though  unchanged  and  unmod- 
ified so  far  as  the  testimony  of  the  senses  is  concerned,  is  utterly  be- 
yond the  influence  of  any  form  of  moisture.  Henceforth  man  is  to  be 
drenched  with  the  elements  no  more.  Out  of  doors  and  indoors  are  to 
become  all  one.    No  man  is  to  be  wet  any  more  forever.    The  storm- 


1 


8o 


ACTON  LECTUKES. 


beaten  tramp  is  to  get  up  dry  as  powder.  Soldiers  will  sleep  all  night 
ill  the  rain,  on  the  ground,  in  swamps  and  lagoons,  and  rise  as  if 
from  beds  of  down  in  the  fourth  story  oi  a  ])alace.  Longfellow's  mon- 
ody on  The  Rainy  Z><^>- will  become  a  joke  which  lad  nnd  lassie  will  re- 
pt^ai  in  merry  jest  as  they  sit  courting  in  the  storm.  The  junior's 
beaver,  erewhile  the  envy  of  all  things  bright  that  cover  the  dome  of 
reason,  gloss>  as  the  wing  of  a  crow,  will  glisten  alike  in  rain  and 
shine ;  and  the  princess  of  Broadway,  queen  of  the  promenade,  gor- 
geous in  the  splendor  of  satins  and  pearls,  rich  in  the  glory  of  nodding 
ostrich  plumes,  will  defy  the  elements  and  go  unwet  through  the  storm, 
while  the  saucy  cataracts  of  April  rain  dash  through  her  plumage,  roll 
over  her  shoulders,  and  rebound  from  her  untarnished  silks  like 
showers  of  quicksilver  poured  over  the  feathers  of  a  bird  of  para- 
dise: 

If  Professor  Lamb  has  really  succeeded  in  his  invention,  he  has 
done  so  by  synthesis,  by  bringing  into  combination  those  facts  and  forces 
which  have  been  revealed  by  long  ages  of  anylilical  investigation,  but 
which  arc  now,  for  the  first  time,  turned  to  good  account  by  the  inte- 
grating process. 

Analysis,  I  repeat,  never  made  a  machine.  Differentiation  has 
never  been  the  mother  of  a  mechanical  contrivance.  In  all  that  won- 
derful domain  where  mind  has  mastered  matter,  where  thought  has  tri- 
umphed over  nature  and  compelled  the  obdurate  forces  which  hold  the 
world  in  equipoise  to  become  the  ministering  angels  of  man,  integra- 
tion has  been  the  torch-bearer  of  progress. 

The  same  thing,  the  same  law  of  the  integrating  forces,  holds  true 
in  the  still  wider  domain  of  abstract  philosophy.  Man  himself  is  be- 
coming a  unit.  He  was  formerly  made  up  of  parts.  Physiology 
claimed  a  part  of  him.  Psychology  claimed  a  part  of  him.  Theology 
claimed  him  all,  but  disposed  of  liim  in  parcels.  He  was  regarded  as 
a  mixture  of  human  orders,  profanely  reared  without  regard  to  style 
or  unity.  Now,  in  the  concept  of  philosophy,  he  is  becoming  an  inte- 
ger. Materialism  has  very  properly  taken  some  of  the  vanity  out  of 
his  pretensions,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  new  ideas  of  the  tran- 
scendental nature  of  matter  have  lifted  him  up  more  than  he  has  de- 
scended. The  high  sky  of  spiritism  comes  down  in  the  distance  from 
above,  and  the  low  plane  of  matter  rises  to  the  sky ;  and  there,  far  off 
in  the  horizon,  where  earth  and  Heaven  meet,  stands  the  figure  of  the 
man  of  the  future.  All  the  laws  which  govern  human  life,  all 
the  principles  which  relate  to  human  conduct,  all  the  tendencies  which 
press  us  into  the  forms  we  bear,  are  in  a  process  of  synthesis,  of  con- 
vergence and  simplification.   Around  the  central  paths  that  lie  straight 


ACTON  LECIURES. 


before  us  and  towards  the  integers  that  stand  focus-Uke  afar,  the  con- 
verging lines  of  all  the  moral  and  biological  forces  are  bearing  us 
steadily  onward. 

But  lastly,  as  to  language  itself.  x\mong  all  linguistic  phenomena 
the  law  of  differentiation  has  completely  exhausted  itself.  There  are 
no  more  dialects.  The  useless  ones  are  dying,  or  dead.  Every  gen- 
eration witnesses  the  decay  and  extinction  of  some  of  the  idle  peculiari- 
ties of  human  speech.  Everywhere  there  is  convergence,  centraliza- 
tion. The  linguistic  tree,  the  diagram  of  the  hereafter,  will  have  its 
branches  toward  us  and  the  trunk  in  the  distance.  And  that  trunk — 
mark  the  prophecy — is  to  be  the  powerful  language  of  England.  The 
tongue  of  Chancer  triumphs  and  bears  the  palm.  It  is  Goethe,  and 
not  Shakespeare,  who  will  have  to  be  translated  for  the  swarming  mil- 
lions of  the  future.  It  is  Milton  and  Bacon  whom  the  children  of  the 
promise  shall  read  in  the  vernacular.  It  is  Hume  and  Macaulay 
whose  wisdom  the  after  ages  shall  drink  up  without  interpretatiqji.  It 
is  Barrow,  and  Taylor,  and  Farar  whose  pulpit  themes  shall  thrill  the 
unborn  nations.  It  is  Burke,  and  Sheridan,  and  Webster  whose  elo- 
quent words  shall  roll  and  echo  through  the  corridors  of  the  ages.  It 
is  Blackstone,  and  vStory,  and  Kent  whose  untranslated  wisdom  shall 
survive  the  wreck  of  races  and  the  collapse  of  nations.  It  is  Scott, 
and  Byron  and  Tennyson,  and  Bryant  whose  harps  breathe  out  im- 
mortal sounds,  quick  with  the  accents  of  a  deathless  speech,  into  the 
listening  ears  of  ages.  It  is  the  sterling  and  hardy  Bible  of  Wickliffe 
and  King  James  that  shall  bear  to  posterity  the  message  and  visions  of 
life,  wooing  and  comforting  in  the  tongue  of  the  English  martyrs, 
exhorting  in  the  accents  of  Hooker  and  Whitefield,  and  firing  the  human 
soul  with  the  sublime  apostrophes  of  Spurgeon  and  Beecher.  The 
tongue  of  our  fathers  is  to  be  the  tongue  of  the  hereafter. 


6 


0OMPARATIYE  THINKING. 


AN  ADDRESS  DEIiIVBilBD  AT  THE  ACTON  CAMP  GROUND,  BY 

AUGUSTUS  L.  MASON, 

AUGUST  3,  1 88 1. 

In  every  age  men  think.  No  matter  if  the  forehead  is  but  an  inch 
high  and  the  teeth  are  an  inch  long,  to  be  human  is  to  have  ideas. 
More  than  this,  the  subjects  of  human  thought  are  always  substantially 
the  same.  The  problems  of  life,  society  and  worship,  which  occupy 
us  to-day,  are  substantially  the  same  problems  which  have,  in  every 
preceding  age,  environed  and  tormented  the  human  mind.  The  insti- 
tutions which  we  inherit  from  the  past  are  the  solutions  which  men  of 
every  age  have  made  of  these  universal  problems  of  existence.  Every 
law,  every  dogma,  every  philosophy  has  been  constructed  by  men  as 
an  answer  to  some  of  these  universal  questions.  The  law  of  property 
is  an  attempted  solution  of  one  great  problem  which  has  disturbed  and 
tormented  men  wherever  toil  was  known.  The  dogma  of  eternal  pun- 
ishment is  an  answer  of  the  human  mind  to  another  question,  and  the 
philosophy  of  the  Stoics  was  an  attempted  solution  of  another  problem. 
Many  solutions  have  been  given  to  the  same  problem.  Take  the  funda- 
mental questions  of  food,  clothing  and  shelter.  For  food,  every  thing 
has  been  tried,  from  Mongolian  rice  and  rats  to  Carolina  hog  and 
hominy.  For  dress,  all  the  way  from  a  fig  leaf  to  a  "swallow  tail." 
For  shelter,  everything  from  a  cave  to  a  castle — from  a  snow  hut  to  a 
marble  palace.  Everywhere  and  always  are  the  same  problems  pre- 
senting themselves  to  mankind.  A  court  house  is  a  modern  reply  to 
the  same  question  which  the  tournament  answered.  Our  common  schools 
and  compulsory  education  fill  the  same  place  and  purpose  as  the  Indian 
custom  by  which  no  young  savage  might  don  the  war  paint  till  he  had 
killed  a  certain  number  of  bears.  The  difference  between  a  Tartar 
tribe  with  its  chief,  a  Roman  Empire  with  its  Ceasar  and  the  American 
Republic  with  its  President,  are  those  of  plan  and  method  and  not  of  pur- 


84 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


pose.  Modern  churches  grow  out  of  the  same  doubts  and  needs  which 
gave  rise  to  the  ceremonies  of  the  howhng  dervishes,  the  mythologies 
of  the  Greeks  or  the  human  sacrifices  of  the  Druids.  The  subjects  of 
human  thoughts  are  the  same,  and  the  continuity  unbroken  from  age 
to  age. 

But,  while  this  is  true,  while  the  minds  of  men  in  every  age  and 
under  every  sky  are  directed  along  the  same  general  channels  of  in- 
vestigation, it  is  also  true  that  there  are  changes  in  the  method  of 
thinking.  There  is  a  growth  in  the  human  intellect.  It  has  its  changes 
and  therefore  has  its  history.  One  generation  views  the  landscape  from 
a  different  stand-point  from  its  predecessors.  The  thoughts  of  men 
are  widened  with  the  process  of  the  suns.  Superstitions,  mistakes 
and  formulas  die  out.  Men  get  to  know  more  and  think  better.  The 
history  of  intellect  is  one  of  epochs.  Each  epoch  is  characterized 
bv  a  different  method  of  thought.  If  this  age  is  to  pass  into  history 
as  marking  an  epoch  in  the  history  ol  mind,  as  you  and  I  believe  it 
will — if  the  Nineteenth  Century  is  to  stand  as  a  granite  wall  between 
the  barbarism,  the  cruelties  and  the  mistakes  of  the  past,  and  a  new  and 
glorious  era  in  the  fortunes  and  destinies  of  mankind  in  the  future,  as 
you  and  I  believe  it  will — it  must  be  because  we  have  discovered  and 
attained  a  new  way,  a  different  method  of  thought.  Everybody  knows 
that  a  mind  has  many  faculties.  It  can  remember,  imagine,  feel,  ob- 
serve, will,  compare,  calculate  and  so  on.  But  the  mind  is  not  a  bun- 
dle of  different  organs.  It  is  one  organ  acting  in  different  ways.  With 
my  one  hand  I  can  touch,  rub,  push  or  strike.  And  just  as  it  is  one 
hand  acting  in  different  ways,  so  it  is  the  one  whole  mind  which  acts 
in  these  different  ways,  at  one  time  willing,  at  another  loving  and  at 
another  reasoning.  Now  the  epochs  in  the  history  of  mind  are  marked 
by  changes  in  the  general  method  of  human  thought.  There  comes  a 
time  when  men  strike  out  in  a  new  way  of  thinking  which  lifts  the 
chariot  of  progress  out  of  the  ruts.  A  new  faculty  of  mind  rises  into 
prominence  and  becomes  the  controlling  influence  in  human  progress. 
Thus  there  was  a  time  when  the  imagination  became  intimately  re- 
lated with  human  progress.  There  was  another  era  when  the  logical 
faculty  was  the  master  in  human  thought ;  and  still  another  time,  when 
the  faculty  of  observation,  of  gathering  together  facts,  changed  and 
brightened  the  destinies  of  mankind  and  opened  the  way  for  the  splen- 
did era  of  the  present  age. 

To  illustrate  the  changes  in  men's  way  of  thinking,  take  a  single 
natural  fact — a  summer  thunder-storm.  The  day  is  oppressive  and 
sultry.  As  it  advances,  a  bank  of  silvery  clouds  pile  their  white  masses 
above  the  horizon.    Higher  and  higher  rolls  the  fleecy  mountain,  till  the 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


85 


sun  at  last  is  covered  with  a  purple  veil.  The  darkened  air  is  close  and  still. 
Wagons  and  drays  thunder  along  the  stony  streets  of  the  city.  The 
ragged  storm-Hne  advances  swiftly.  The  air,  before  so  breathless,  is 
swept  by  a  rising  wind.  Signs  creak;  papers  fly;  windows  come 
down  with  a  bang ;  clouds  of  dust  are  caught  up  and  swept  through 
the  streets,  blinding  the  eyes  and  choking  the  throats  of  hurrying  men. 
A  moment  more — great  drops  of  rain  blur  the  window  pane ;  the  noise 
of  the  thunder,  at  first  only  a  mutter,  increases  to  a  roar.  The  Demon 
of  the  Tempest  is  unchained  and  rushes  forth  to  battle  with  ungoverna- 
ble fury.  Flash  after  flash  of  red  lightning  rends  the  dark,  bosom  of  the 
storm.  Peal  after  peal  of  thunder  shakes  the  earth  like  the  iron  trum- 
pet of  Doom.  The  bravest  groM^  thoughtful,  and  the  gentle  heart  of 
woman  trembles  with  anxiety.  At  last  the  floods  descend.  The 
earth  is  drenched,  and  men  turn  to  their  work  again.  Half  an  hour 
later  the  sun  breaks  through  the  clouds  in  smiling  joy ;  the  fresh  pure 
air  pours  in  through  the  open  window ;  and  but  for  the  broken  branch 
of  some  tree  or  the  full  flow  of  the  drains,  the  picture  of  the  storm 
would  be  forgotten. 

Now  ask  an  old  Athenian  .sophist  what  that  storm  was.  He  will 
say  :  Without  doubt,  it  was  a  quarrel  among  the  gods.  The  jealous 
Hera,  discovering  some  new  debauch  of  Zeus,  has  raised  a  quarrel  about 
it;  and  the  latter,  to  quiet  Heaven,  let  fly  the  angry  thunder-bolts 
of  his  wrath."  If  we  ask  a  schoolman  of  the  Middle  Ages,  what  the 
storm  was,  he  will  say  :  "It  was  sent  by  God,  either  to  bless  or  curse. 
A  blessing  may  be  a  curse,  and  a  curse  a  blessing.  Whichever  this 
thunder  storm  was,  if  it  was  one  it  may  be  the  other ;  if  either,  it  may  be 
both."  If,  notwithstanding  this  pleasant  and  complete  explanation 
of  the  storm,  we  now  ask  an  American  school-boy,  he  will  say  :  *T  do 
not  know  what  the  storm  was,  but  when  my  teacher  charged  a  Leyden 
jar  with  electricity,  and  I  held  my  finger  near  it,  it  went  off  with  a 
flash  of  light  and  an  explosion.  May  be  the  cloud  is  full  of  electricity, 
and  when  it  comes  near  a  tree  or  church  steeple,  it  goes  off  like  the  jar." 

Here  are  three  characteristic  answers;  three  different  methods  by 
which  the  three  minds  dealt  with  the  question.  The  Athenian  settled 
it  by  imagination ;  the  schoolman  tried  to  determine  it  by  deduction 
and  dry  logic ;  the  school-boy  tried  to  study  it  out  by  comparison,  by 
thinking  what  the  storm  was  like.  Thus  the  mind  grows.  It  has  its 
phases.  It  changes  its  methods,  and  its  epochs  are  marked  out  by  its 
changes  in  the  method  of  its  general  activities. 

Once  more,  in  the  course  of  history,  a  change  has  come  over  the 
method  of  men's  thought.  We  have  all  the  old  forms  of  thought,  but 
now  a  new  way  of  thinking,  a  new  process  is  upon  us.  In  the  labora- 
tory, in  the  workshop  and  study  a  new  method  is  being  used. 


86 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


From  the  standpoint  of  thought  it  seems  to  me  that  this  is  pre-emi- 
nently an  age  of  Comparison,  a  time  when  the  minds  of  men  are  busy 
with  comparing  things  which  are  separate.  It  is  the  purpose  of  this 
address  to  glance  modestly  at  the  reasons  and  results  of  this  new  phase 
of  the  intellect  which  we  have  called  Comparative  Thinking. 

What  is  meant  by  Comparative  thinking  ?  It  means  the  study  of 
any  problem,  institution,  thing  or  subject  by  means  of  comparison. 
At  the  State  Agricultural  School  is  an  eighty  acre  wheat  field,  which  is  di- 
vided into  squares  like  a  checker-board.  On  one  .of  these  squares  is 
sprinkled  bone  dust ;  on  another,  guano  ;  on  a  third,  blood  and  bone  ; 
on  the  fourth,  no  fertilizer  at  all.  A  record  is  carefully  kept  of  each 
square,  and  at  harvest  .the  yield  of  each  is  separately  weighed-  and  the 
results  compared.  More  can  be  learned  in  this  way  in  one  season  of 
the  relative  value  of  fertilizers,  than  in  two  hundred  years  of  old  fashioned 
farming.  This  is  the  comparative  method  applied  to  agriculture.  It 
is  a  new  thing.  It  belongs  peculiarly  to  this  age.  It  is  nothing  unusual 
for  a  farmer  to  use  fertilizers,  but  to  compare  the  results  of  a  dozen  dif- 
ferent kinds  was  new. 

Again:  here  is  a  country  divided  into  thirty-eight  States.  Each 
State  has  its  own  legislature,  makes  its  own  laws  and  conducts  its  own 
experiments.  New  York  makes  a  wife  equal  in  law  to  her  husband ; 
Kansas  tries  prohibition  ;  South  Carolina  institutes  slavery  ;  Wyoming 
tries  universal  suffrage.  The  results  of  these  experiments  are  com- 
pared by  the  people,  and  the  best  survive.  In  this  way,  more  progress, 
socially  and  politically,  can  be  made  in  fifty  years,  than  in  a  thousand 
years  of  the  old  way  of  each  country  shutting  eyes  and  ears  to  the  rest 
of  mankind.  This  is  the  comparative  method  applied  to  law  making, 
and  it  belongs  exclusively  to  this  age. 

Every  one  sees  at  a  glance  that  before  things  can  be  compared 
they  must  be  brought  together,  either  in  fact  or  in  thought.  It  is  not 
the  fact  that  each  State  makes  its  own  laws  that  is  new,  but  it  is  new 
for  the  results  of  the  experiments  to  be  brought  together  in  the  mind  of 
the  people.  It  is  a  law  of  mind  and  a  result  of  culture  that 
when  two  or  more  things  or  ideas  are  brought  together  in  thought  they 
may  be  compared,  may  be  viewed  in  relation  to  each  other.  When- 
ever an  individual  or  a  community  receives  a  large  accession  of  ideas 
or  knowledge,  when  thought  has  a  wider  range  of  observation,  when 
the  means  of  communication  between  the  mind  and  the  world  are  in- 
creased, there  is  a  corresponding  increase  in  the  comparative  element 
of  thought. 

It  is  precisely  this  bringing  together  of  widely  separated  things 
and  institutions,  which  distinguishes  and  separates  this  age  from  every 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


87 


Other.  The  ear  can  recognize  the  tick  of  a  watch  at  three  or  four  feet. 
But  we  have  an  instrument  which  enables  us  to  hear  just  as  well  if  the 
watch  is  ten  miles  off.  This  is  an  extension  of  the  sense,  a  multiplier 
of  the  means  of  communication.  The  avenues  of  communication  be- 
tween the  mind  and  the  world  are,  in  the  Nineteenth  Century,  multi- 
plied a  thousand  fold.  Along  them  armies  of  facts  and  ideas  press 
and  throng  their  way  to  the  individual  thought.  On  the  great  and 
novel  fact  of  infinite  communication  the  very  fabric  of  the  age,  its  in- 
stitutions, its  character,  its  works,  are  based. 

I.  For  sixty  centuries  men  were  fixtures.  They  saw  little  more  of 
the  world,  than  a  tree  does.  The  Israelites  wandered  forty  years  in  a 
desert,  not  much  larger  than  Shelby  and  Marion  counties,  hopelessly 
lost.  Among  the  Greeks  a  man  who  had  been  abroad  was  called  a  phil- 
osopher. It  is  hardly  so  now.  Only  for  war  did  men  travel.  So  lo- 
calized were  men  that  America  was  not  discovered  till  fifteen  hundred 
years  after  Christ.  In  the  past  men  never  looked  outside  of  their  own 
city,  or  god,  or  institution.  Florence  and  Pisa  were  two  neighboring 
cities.  The  only  use  they  made  of  each  other's  society  was  to  hate  it. 
The  past  has  been  deep,  but  intensely  narrow.  You  would  have  in- 
sulted a  Roman  by  offering  to  compare  his  city  with  some  other. 

The  crusades  were  indirectly  the  source  of  the  first  comparative 
thinking.  They  turned  the  thought  and  eyes  of  Europe  to  the  East. 
For  the  first  time  the  human  mind  really  knew  what  comparison  was. 
The  crusades  were  followed  by  the  revival  of  art  and  letters — that 
mountain  land  of  intellect  and  literature  from  whose  perennial  springs 
many  a  weary  age  shall  draw  inspiration  and  delight.  If  now  the 
clumsy  physical  communication,  incidentally  opened  by  the  crusades, 
was  followed  by  such  an  awakening  of  thought,  such  an  enlargement 
of  vision,  who  can  measure  the  far-reachmg  power  of  the  communica- 
tions of  the  Nineteenth  Century — the  railroad,  the  steamboat  and  the 
telegraph,  all  of  them  inventions  of  the  last  fifty  years.  The  continent 
is  tremulous  with  the  thundering  tread  of  the  locomotive.  Day  and 
night  the  people  of  America  are  in  motion.  Not  a  hamlet  but  ex- 
periences each  day  the  electric  shock  of  arriving  or  departing  trains. 
The  stagnant  pond  of  village  life  is  each  day  shaken.  More  and  more 
people  travel  each  year.  Cheap  excursions  multiply.  Men,  for  the 
first  time  in  history,  are  really  looking  outside  of  themselves.  The 
mind  broadens ;  prejudice  disappears.  What  an  enlargement  of  vision 
to  a  boy  is  his  first  trip  to  the  city !  Communication  or  the  bringing 
together  of  many  things  before  the  mind  is  the  basis  of  comparative 
thought.  Every  time  a  man  gets  on  a  railroad  train  his  thought  is  busy 
with  comparison.    Sometimes  he  compares  wheat  fields;  sometimes 


ACTON  LECTURES 


people ;  sometimes  school  houses,  and  sometimes  pigs,-  bat  each  time 
he  is  thinking  comparatively.  Jt  is  a  step  forward  when  a  farmer  ex- 
amines the  pigs  of  other  regions  than  his  own.  It  is  a  progress  whicb 
not  only  expands  the  mind  of  the  farmer  but  results  in  better  pigs. 

Side  by  side  with  the  railroad  runs  the  telegraph  with  500,000' 
miles  of  wire  In  the  United  States.  Instant  communication  with  the" 
entire  globe,  and  hence  constant  comparison  with  the  entire  globe.  At 
every  joint  in  the  telegraph  line  a  printing  press  I  The  American  me- 
chanic of  to-day  knows  more  than  Cicero  did.  The  marvels  of  the 
telegraph  can  never  be  told.  The  smallest  telegraph  station  in  Texas- 
knows  the  state  of  the  President's  pulse  as  soon  as  the  anxious  crowd 
around  the  White  House. 

The  practical  genius  of  the  age  is  comrnuiiication.  Our  trains  fufy 
from  thirty-five  to  forty  miles  an  hour.  The  Lafontaine  engine,  which 
has  just  been  invented,  doubles  that  speed.  It  used  to  take  a  month' 
to  cross  the  Atlantic.  A  steamer  is  now  building  which  will  make  the 
trip  in  five  days.  Everywhere  we  hear  of  Mont  Cenis  tunnels,  of 
Brooklyn  bridges,  of  ship  railways  over  land  and  car  railways  under 
sea.  The  world  has  gone  mad  on  the  subject.  Telephone,  telegraph, 
telescope,  the  penny  newspaper — these  are  the  myriad  avenues  of  com^ 
niunication  which  this  age  has  established  between  the  mind  and  the 
world. 

As  the  practical  genius  of  the  age  is  communication,  it  should  fol- 
low that  the  intellectual  genius  of  the  age  is  compariso}!.  The  facts 
support  the  theory.  Every  argument  of  the  last  campaign  was  an  ar- 
gument from  comparison.  It  was  understood  that  that  method  was  the 
only  way  to  reach  the  minds  of  the  people.  Whether  the  question  was 
the  tariff  or  civil  service  reform,  or  public  economy,  the  method  was 
the  same.  It  was  the  comparison  between  the  free  and  slave  States,  by 
means  of  statistics,  which  really  broke  up  and  destroyed  forever  the  po- 
litical grounds  on  which  slavery  was  based.  The  census,  that  triumph 
of  the  century,  is  comparative  thought  itself.  Our  postal  system  estab- 
lishes a  continual  comparison  and  fusion  of  sentiment  and  opinion  be- 
tween distant  parts  of  the  globe.  Postmaster  General  James  says  that 
if  the  postal  system  had  attained  its  present  state  of  perfection  twenty- 
five  years  earlier  the  Civil  War  would  have  been  impossible.  Every 
postal  ear  is  a  chariot  of  culture.  The  tendency  to  comparative  thought 
may  be  seen  in  the  conventions  of  the  day.  Every  county  and  State 
has  its  regular  teachers'  institute  for  the  comparison  of  methods.  The 
State  Bar  Association  is  an  association  of  lawyers  for  the  same  purpose. 
Short  Horn  conventions,  wool  grower's  associations,  poultry  exhibitions 
and  trade  soci^tie?  of  every  kind  are  essentially  comparative.,  Ev^ry  county^ 


ACTON  LECTURES.  89 

fair  is  a  product  of  the  same  general  intellectual  tendency  of  the  age, 
Because  it  is  a  comparison  of  pumpkins  and  pigs  instead  of  literatures 
and  religions  it  is  no  less  comparative  thought.  The  Centennial  Expo- 
sition was  the  magnificent  blossom  on  the  century  plant  of  com- 
parative thinking.  Wherever  we  turn  we  see  men  comparing  things, 
and  selecting  the  best  ;  wherever  we  look  men  form  their  judgment  by 
comparison.  When  the  Czar  was  killed  the  mind  of  this  people  was 
in  doubt  as  to  whether  it  was  really  wrong.  The  dreadful  state  of 
Russian  society  we  felt  was  partly  his  fault.  Even  with  the  fresh  memory 
of  Lincoln's  death,  when  despair  drove  its  dagger  into  the  very 
heart  of  victory,  we  were  in  doubt;  but  when,  in  a  time  of  peace  and 
prosperity,  when  every  hand  was  busy  and  every  table  in  the  land  sup- 
plied, when  the  wounds  of  Civil  War  were  healed,  when  peace  smiled 
over  every  fireside  and  men  were  happy  as  well  as  free,  when,  at  such 
a  time,  red  handed  crime  fired  at  the  heart  of  the  man  we  loved,  then 
in  two  hours  after  the  shot  one-half  of  America  had  changed  its  mind 
about  the  Czar.  Men  saw  the  great  political  truth,  that  crime  is  crime  ; 
that  murder  is  not  a  redress  of  wrongs,  but  everywhere  and  always  the 
black  deed  of  an  infamous  heart.  It  is  thus  that  the  infinite  physical 
communication  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  leads  the  minds  of  men  to 
comparative  thinking.  Every  express  train,  every  fast  freight  line, 
every  telegraph  wire  tends  to  turn  the  eyes  of  men  away  from  their 
own  little  life  to  the  broader  scenes  of  the  world.  Every  thundering 
locomotive,  as  it  tears  down  the  slender  curving  track  of  steel  in  the 
darkness  of  midnight,  with  a  single  eye  of  flame  and  its  lungs  of  fire, 
obscuring  the  quiet  stars  with  a  curtain  of  smoke  and  shaking  hill  and 
hamlet  in  its  fearful  race,  is  a  helper  of  humanity — is  an  arch  enemy 
of  narrow  mindedness,  of  illiberality  and  of  bigotry.  The  ocean 
steamer,  passing  its  life  amid  storm-tossed  seas,  struggling  forever  in 
mighty  conflict  with  the  tempest,  is  a  champion  of  an  enlarged  vision 
for  mankind,  a  friend  of  liberal  thought,  a  very  Ajax  in  the  cause  of 
comparative  thinking. 

II.  I  have  dwelt  long  on  the  physical  means  of  communication, 
because  we  are  apt  to  forget  that  they  belong  only  to  this  century,  and 
because  they  are  lifting  the  people,  the  masses,  into  such  an  enlarged 
view  of  life  and  the  world.  But  a  second  form  of  communication, 
which  is  peculiar  to  the  age,  is  that  by  reason  of  our  institutions.  On 
opposite  corners  of  every  town  are  churches  of  opposite  creeds.  The 
two  congregations  are  neighbors  and  friends.  They  look  at  each 
other's  creeds  not  as  things  to  be  hated,  but  to  be  compared  with  their 
own.  When  sects  cease  to  be  isolated  and  shut  off  from  one  another, 
you  may  toll  the  knell  of  dying  bigotry.    Wherever  there  is  isolation 


go  ACTON  LECTURES. 

there  is  jealousy ;  wherever  there  is  communication  you  find  calm,  ra- 
tional comparison  going  on  in  the  minds  of  men.  Pure  comparative 
thought  in  religion  is  a  new  thing  in  the  world.  Sects  have  always 
been  isolated  from  each  other  heretofore.  Predestination  cut  the 
Calvinists  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  Baptists  shut  them- 
selves up  in  the  briar  hedge  of  close  communion.  The  Church  of  En- 
gland had  an  exclusive  governmental  patent  right  sort  of  religion.  The 
Reformation  so  isolated  the  two  great  branches  of  Christianity  that  the 
breach  still  continues  deadly  and  terrible.  Not  one  Protestant  in  ten 
can  look  at  the  Catholics  fairly.  I  can't  do  it  myself!  So  long  as  one 
country  is  CathoHc  and  another  Protestant;  so  long  as  one  stratum  of 
society  believes  in  Pope,  and  another  stratum  believes  in  anti-Pope,  so 
long  will  this  prejudice  continue.  But  as  communication  opens  up  be- 
tween the  two  sects,  as  their  churches  are  placed  side  by  side,  as  their 
people  intermingle,  a  Catholic  will  view  Protestantism  not  as  a  thing 
to  be  hated,  but  to  be  studied,  and  a  Protestant  will  view  CathoHcism 
merely  from  a  standpoint  of  comparison,  as  a  mere  matter  of  intellect, 
not  of  passion.  This  is  a  part  of  the  general  intellectual  tendency  of 
the  age  toward  comparative  thought,  of  which  communication  is  the 
reason  and  breadth  of  mind  the  result. 

But  there  are  other  chasms  just  as  terrible  as  those  of  sects.  It  is 
possible  for  the  separation,  the  social  distance  which  lies  between  the 
home  of  a  rich  man  and  the  hovel  in  the  alley  back  of  it,  to  be  wider, 
more  impassible  than  the  Atlantic  ocean.  It  is  possible  for  the  dis- 
tance between  the  employer  and  employe  to  be  greater  than  between 
New  York  and  China.  The  isolations  of  society  and  caste  are  more 
permanent  and  more  impassable  than  the  Alps  themselves.  It  is  a 
part  of  this  age,  however,  to  antagonize  this  tendency  to  separation 
by  institutions.  The  ballot  box  brings  men  together.  The  communi- 
cation causes  comparison.  In  the  city  is  a  great  foundry,  but  though 
it  is  a  working  day  the  wheels  are  still ;  the  furnaces  dark  and  cold ; 
the  vast  rooms  are  silent.  In  the  street  is  gathered  a  crowd  of  angry 
strikers.  They  curse  capital,  and  threaten  to  burn  and  kill.  In  the 
upper  end  of  town,  in  his  luxuriant  parlor,  sits  the  capitalist.  They 
bring  him  news  of  the  strikers  and  their  threats,  and  he  curses  labor. 
What  is  the  remedy  ?  Social  science  and  common  sense  alike  say: 
"Let  there  be  communication  instead  of  isolation  between  the  classes 
of  society.  Let  the  rich  and  poor,  employer  and  employe,  know  each 
other  and  compare  their  situations,  duties  and  hardships,"  and  low 
wages  and  strikes  may  be  forgotten. 

III.    We  have  spoken  of  the  physical  communication,  of  the 
communication  which  our  institutions  open,  and  of  the  comparative 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


91 


tendency  in  thought  which  arises  therefrom.  There  is  a  third  source 
of  comparative  thinking.  I  mean  the  communication  of  language  and 
literature.  For  a  few  cents  one  may  have  a  translation  of  Homer  or 
Virgil,  or  he  may  buy  a  novel  of  Dickens,  which  will  forever  furnish 
his  mind  with  a  picture  of  lower  English  life,  or  a  translation  from  Vic- 
tor Hugo,  so  that  he  can  know  French  manners  almost  as  well  as 
American.  The  observed  tendency  of  the  English  language  to  swallow 
up  and  supplant  all  other  languages  is  another  opening  avenue  of  com- 
munication. More  important,  however,  as  a  source  of  comparative 
thinking  is  History.  In  the  last  twenty-five  years  history  has  been  re- 
written. The  idea  of  it  has  changed.  Popular  history,  or  a  history 
* 'of  the  people  and  for  the  people"  is  a  product  of  the  present  genera- 
tion. Hardly  a  school  boy  who  does  not  know  more  of  the  past  than 
Shakespeare  did.  In  former  ages  men  have  lived  and  died,  hemmed 
in  by  the  horizon  of  their  own  age.  They  awoke  to  find  themselves 
on  a  stair.  Below  were  steps  which  humanity  seemed  to  have  climbed, 
and  above  steps  yet  to  ascend,  but  the  past  and  the  future  were  alike  a 
mystery.  Nations  did  not  know  their  own  history.  You  and  I  know 
more  about  the  institutions  of  Athens  than  the  wisest  Athenian  that  ever 
lived.  We  understand  the  decline  and  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  bet- 
ter than  the  proudest  Roman  that  ever  wore  a  toga.  In  this  age,  for 
the  first  time  in  the  world,  the  minds  of  men  are  dilated  and  over- 
whelmed by  the  sudden  lifting  of  the  curtain  of  history.  The  past 
rises  before  us  not  like  a  dream,  but  like  a  drama.  Everywhere  new 
methods  of  investigation  are  used.  Buried  cities  are  disinterr.ed. 
Mounds  are  tunneled  and  caves  explored  for  historic  traces.  Troy, 
the  scene  of  Homer's  Illiad,  is  laid  bare  to  the  eye.  The  crude  and 
mysterious  hieroglyphics  of  a  forgotten  age  are  tortured  into  a  revela- 
tion of  their  secrets.  The  study  of  language  has  thrown  light  upon 
vast  historic  periods  which  have  hitherto  been  abandoned  to  the  do- 
main of  night.  Not  only  are  the  materials  of  history  just  being  dis- 
covered, but  the  spirit  and  purpose  of  history  are  just  beginning  to  be 
understood.  We  are  beginning  to  get  a  history  of  the  people  instead 
of  bloody  stories  of  faithless  kings.  The  Nineteenth  Century  cares 
more  to  have  a  picture  of  the  peasant's  fireside,  with  his  rustic  family 
about  it  and  the  story  of  their  simple  life,  than  to  know  the  history  of 
the  proudest  king,  with  the  most  brilliant  court  that  ever  dazzled  the 
eyes  and  corrupted  the  manners  of  men. 

The  result  of  this  new  communication  with  the  past  is  comparative 
thought  in  the  present.  In  politics  men  compare  the  present  with  the 
past,  and  cast  their  votes  by  the  result.  The  Greenback  question 
brought  to  light  the  exact  history  of  every  issue  of  paper  money  in 


92 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


modern  times.  The  Republic  rests  on  comparative  thought.  The 
tendency  to  comparative  thinking  arising  from  our  communication  with 
the  past  is  shown  in  the  revision  of  the  Bible,  in  the  growth  and  pop- 
ularit)-  of  the  ''historical  novel,"  and  in  the  universal  study  of  social 
problems,  such  as  the  labor  question  and  socialism,  by  the  light  of  his- 
tory. It  is  remarkable  that  the  two  books  which  have  latey  attracted  the 
most  notice  are  Arnold's  "Light  of  Asia,"  containing  a  poetic  view  of 
the  origin  of  Buddhism,  and  Wallace's  "Ben  Hur,"  containing  a  pic- 
ture of  the  origin  of  Christianity.  Still  more  fully  and  magnificently 
is  comparative  thinking  shown  in  the  rise  of  comparative  sciences. 
Comparative  philology  is  achieving  more  than  all  the  other  sciences. 
Comparative  mythology  is  also  a  distinct  department  of  human  thought. 
Edward  Freeman,  in  opening  his  work  on  "Comparative  Politics,"  de- 
clares that  the  introduction  of  the  comparative  method  into  historical 
studies  ranks  among  the  most  important  events  of  the  century.  Com- 
parative theology,  or  comparative  religion,  is  a  science  yet  in  its  infancy, 
but  the  eyes  and  hearts  of  many  thoughtful  earnest  men  are  turned  to 
it  with  hearts  full  of  hope. 

There  have  been  pointed  out  three  sources  for  comparative  think- 
ing— the  opening  of  physical  communication  between  different  places, 
the  communication  between  sects  and  classes  by  means  of  our  institu- 
tions, and,  lastly,  the  communication  of  language  or  literature.  It  is 
evident  that  we  see  but  the  feeble  beginnings  of  comparative  thinking. 
As  human  experiments  become  more  complete,  and  as  communication 
becomes  more  perfect,  comparative  thinking  is  destined  to  ascend,  and 
supplement  more  and  more  powerfully  the  progress  of  men.  The  old- 
est and  richest  civilizations  of  earth  are  hitherto  shut  off  from  us.  The 
intimate  communication  between  America  and  Europe  has  wrought 
wonders.  Suppose  that  the  discoverers  had  had  to  populate  this  conti- 
nent without  any  more  communication  with  Europe  than  we  have  had 
with  China.  It  would  have  been  filled  with  savage  tribes  3,000  years 
from  now.  But  who  can  imagine  the  result  of  a  comparison  of  the  re- 
sults of  Chinese  civilization  with  our  own?  Wendell  Phillips,  in  his 
famous  lecture  on  the  "Lost  Arts"  gives  us  a  hint  of  the  matchless 
wonders  that  are  hidden  by  the  wall  of  China,  Who  can  tell  what 
changes  will  come  when  we  know  India  as  well  as  France  ? 

Suppose,  now,  that  we  are  satisfied  that  the  tendency  to  compara- 
tive thinking  is  shown,  and  that  men  are  really  going  to  do  much  of 
their  thinking  by  comparison.  What  of  it?  How  will  it  effect  us? 
To  what  purpose  is  so  much  talk  about  the  thing? 

Three  results  may  be  looked  tor : 


AdfON  LfeCTtjkkS. 


1.  In  practical  affairs  ihe  survival  of  the  fittest.  In  farming,  the 
result  of  comparison  will  be  to  use  the  best  fertilizer.  In  politics,  we 
may  confidently  expect  as  a  result  of  comparative  thinking,  that  the 
best  form  of  government  wrll  survive.  The  age  brings  communication 
slowly  but  surely  to  every  nation.  Just  as  certainly  as  effect  follows 
cause,  comes  comparison,  and,  under  this  view,  it  is  absolutely  certain 
that  in  Russia  and  China,  as  well  as  America,  the  best  form  of  gov- 
ernment must  ultimately  prevail.  And  so  in  religion,  no  matter  if  the 
King  of  Siam  now  buries  two  hundred  people  alive  to  secure  his 
recovery,  we  rest  on  the  absolute  certainty  that,  as  the  epoch  of  com- 
parative thinking  reaches  even  Siam,  there,  as  well  as  here,  the  best 
religion  is  bound  to  be  adopted  and  survive. 

2.  In  the  department  of  thought  it  may  be  expected  that  the 
leaders  of  the  immediate  future  will  be  comparers  rather  than  discover- 
ers, theorists  rather  than  reformers,  generalizers  rather  than  inventors. 
In  the  mechanic  arts,  such  as  that  of  making  an  electric  light,  we  will 
not  only  see  private  experiment  and  isolated  invention,  but  we  will  see 
one  man  bringing  together  and  comparing  the  results  of  electric  light 
experiments  made  all  over  the  world.  This  is  really  what  Edison  has 
done.  As  I  speak,  the  World  Electric  Exposition  with  acres  of 
inventions  is  open  m  Paris.  In  a  great  patent  suit  recently  it 
transpired  that  the  machine  in  question  was  not  an  origination 
of  the  inventor,  but  a  combination  of  a  French,  a  German  and 
an  American  machine.  This  thing  is  common.  In  literature 
we  will  see  criticism  and  comparison  rather  than  the  founding  of 
isolated  schools  of  a  new  kind  of  literature.  In  religion,  the  great 
men  that  will  arise  will  not  be  the  founders  and  reformers  of  special 
sects,  but  will  be  men  whose  chief  work  will  be  to  compare  and  har- 
monize the  existing  religions  of  the  world.  They  will  not  so  much  hate 
Buddhism  as  explain  it.  They  will  not  so  much  fight  a  doctrine  as 
study  it  in  comparison  with  the  doctrines  of  other  times  and  places. 
It  is,  in  my  opinion,  beyond  the  wing  of  the  boldest  imagination  to 
conceive  the  results  which  are  to  come  from  a  comparative  study  of  re- 
ligions. Comparative  philology  has  discovered  the  common  origin  of 
languages.  Is  it  impossible  that  comparative  religion  as  a  science 
should  discover  the  common  origin  of  religions  ? 

3.  I  think  the  rise  of  comparative  thinking  is  to  mark  an  epoch 
in  the  history  of  intellect  by  a  widening  of  the  minds  of  men.  The  in- 
tellectual vision  is  henceforth  to  turn  outward  rather  than  inward. 
With  the  progress  of  comparative  thinking,  the  zealot  as  a  leader  must 
pass  away.  The  day  of  Luthers,  of  Calvins  and  of  Knoxes  is  forever 
gone.    We  are  entering  upon  an  era  of  uncertainty  in  opinion.  When 


94 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


a  man  has  reached  the  point  where  he  looks  on  all  forms  of  government 
and  religion  with  a  view  to  honestly  comparing  them  and  selecting  the 
best,  he  has  reached  a  point  where  bigotry  and  zeal  of  opinion  are  im- 
possible. In  politics  it  is  undeniable  that  the  body  of  men  who  are 
without  prejudice  for  or  against  either  party,  but  who  vote  after  a  can- 
did comparison  of  platforms  and  candidates,  is  growing  larger  every 
year.  This  liberty,  this  lack  of  zeal,  has  its  dangers,  but  for  my  part, 
I  welcome  the  day  of  comparative  thought.  I  have  faith  to  believe 
that  after  a  period  of  comparative  thinking,  of  uncertainty  and  of  se- 
lection, the  best  will  survive,  and  the  falsehoods,  superstitions  and 
mistakes  of  men  perish  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  "unwept,  unhonored 
and  unsung." 


Microscopic  glimpses 


OF 

GOD  AND  IMMORTALITY. 


BY  REV.  J.  P.  D.  JOHN,  A.  M., 

President  of  Moore's  Hill  College. 


Three  thousand  years  ago  the  Patriarch  of  Uz  propounded  the 
universal  human  question  :  "  If  a  man  die,  shall  he  live  again?  "  In 
the  heart  of  every  human  being  of  normal  development,  as  he  has 
stood  face  to  face  with  the  inscrutable  mystery  before  him,  spontane- 
ously has  arisen  this  question  of  questions:  "  If  a  man  die,  shall  he 
live  again  ?  "  Inscribed  on  the  tombstones  of  unseen  graves  in  human 
hearts,  wherein  hope  lies  buried,  and  over  which  love  weeps  its  holy 
grief,  is  this  ever  recurring  question:  "  If  a  man  die,  shall  he  live 
again?" 

With  comparatively  few  exceptions,  there  has  been  but  one  answer 
to  this  question.  The  gireat  heart  of  humanity,  speaking  forth  its  in- 
nermost instinct,  proclaims  with  unfaltering  tones,  "  If  a  man  die,  he 
shall  live  again."  The  philosopher  of  Athens  said  before  his  death: 
' '  You  may  bury  me  if  you  can  catch  me ;  to-morrow  I  shall  be  with 
the  immortal  gods." 

Such  has  been  the  general  though  not  universal  answer  to  the 
question.  When  you  go  through  the  forest  you  will  find  here  and  there 
a  tree  of  monstrous  growth  whose  gnarled  trunk  bends  from  its  upright 
course,  and  whose  leaves  look  back  upon  the  earth ;  but  the  ten  thou- 
sand trees  of  the  forest  look  toward  the  heavens.  Now  and  then,  in 
human  history,  an  instinct  of  abnormal  growth  fixes  its  expressionless 
eyes  on  the  earth  beneath;  but  the  unfettered  instinct  of  humanity 
looks  towards  the  stars. 


ACTON  LECtUkEs. 


Materialism  fixes  its  eyes  upon  the  earth,  and  even  when  looking 
starward  seems  to  get  no  focus. 

What  is  materialism?  It  is  Christianity's  most  formidable  exter- 
nal foe.  What  does  it  teach  ?  That  thought  is  a  function  of  matter. 
There  are  schisms  in  the  materialistic  schools,  but  they  all  agree  on 
this  central  proposition  :  Matter  thinks.  There  are  atheistic  material- 
ists, who  hold  that  there  is  but  one  substance  in  the  universe,  and  its 
name  is  matter.  A  spiritual  God  is  dethroned ;  a  spiritual  soul  is  an- 
nihilated. There  is  no  such  thing  as  spirit  independent  of  matter. 
Then  there  are  theistic  materialists  who  believe  in  a  spiritual  God,  but 
not  in  an  independent  spiritual  soul  in  man.  All  that  is  ascribed  to 
human  mind  is  merely  the  result  of  the  clash  of  molecule  with  molecule. 
When  the  body  dissolves  the  spirit  dissolves.  Again,  there  are  indif- 
ferent materialists  who  claim  that  if  there  be  a  spiritual  God  we  can  not 
know  it.  We  find  ourselves  here  in  the  world.  How  we  came  here 
it  matters  not;  whither  we  are  tending  it  matters  not.  "  The  key- 
board, with  its  black  and  white  keys  is  before  us  for  our  use.  What  came 
before  the  bass  we  do  not  know  or  care;  what  comes  after  the  treble 
we  equally  httle  know  or  care."  "These  are  essentially  questions  of 
lunar  politics."  'Tt  is  no  less  impious  to  declare  that  there  is  a  God 
than  to  deny  his  existence." 

These  schools  of  materialists — atheistic,  theistic  and  indifferent — 
all  unite  on  this  common  ground :  Matter  can  think ;  and  all  our 
thought  is  the  result  solely  of  molecular  action.  When  the  matter  dis. 
integrates,  the  thought  must  cease.  When  the  body  dissolves,  the  soul 
vanishes ;  for  all  the  soul  that  man  possesses  is  a  complex  chemical 
compound.    Spirit  does  not  exist  apart  from  matter. 

If  materialism  in  this  broad  sense  be  true,  there  can  be  no  per- 
sonal God,  no  personal  soul  and  no  personal  immortality.  I  propose 
to  lead  you  along  the  path  of  science  until  you  stand  face  to  face  with 
a  spiritual  God,  a  spiritual  soul  and  a  spiritual  immortality. 

I  shall  not  on  this  occasion  elaborate  the  usual  arguments  in  favor 
of  immortality.  Substantially,  they  are  these :  God's  revelation  in 
the  Scriptures  and  in  human  instinct  teaches  it.  But  neither  of  these 
arguments  is  accounted  valid  by  the  materialist,  since  he  denies  the 
supernatural  revelation  of  the  Bible  and  the  natural  revelation  in  in- 
stinct. To  him  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible  is  a  superstition,  and  in- 
stinct, like  mind  itself,  only  molecular  action. 

Is  there,  then,  any  common  ground  on  which  we  can  stand  with 
the  materialist? 

I  shall  lay  down  one  proposition  which  every  man  of  sound  mind 
is  compelled  to  accept.    In  addition  to  this  one  proposition,  I  shall 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


97 


present  one  dogma  of  materialistic  science.  Upon  this  one  necessarily 
accepted  proposition  and  this  one  certainly  accepted  dogma,  and 
upon  facts  which  the  materialist  himself  shall  furnish  me,  I  propose  to 
rear  the  structure  of  independent  spiritual  existence  and  immortality. 

Proposition. — The  whole  can  not  be  greater  than  the  sum  of  its 
parts.    It  is  impossible  to  stretch  two  and  two  into  five. 

Dogma. — Force  is  indestructible. 

This  proposition,  which  is  universally  admitted,  and  this  dogma, 
which  is  admitted  and  glorified  by  the  materialist,  form  a  two-edged 
sword  which,  wielded  by  the  facts  of  the  microscope,  pierces  the  vitals 
of  materialism,  but  leaves  unscathed  the  existence  of  God  and  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul.  Mark,  I  do  not  say  that  the  immortality  of  the 
soul  can  be  absolutely  demonstrated  outside  of  God's  written  Word; 
but  its  demonstration  is  absolute  upon  one  self-evident  proposition, 
and  one  claimed  to  be  true  by  materialistic  science.  In  other  words, 
materialistic  science  grants  enough  to  destroy  materialism.  It  holds  in 
its  own  hand  a  sharp  weapon  pointed  towards  its  own  heart. 

The  facts  that  I  shall  present  are  not  theological  dogmas.  They 
are  in  substance  universally  admitted  by  materialistic  as  well  as  spirit- 
uahstic  physiologists.  They  are  the  facts  of  the  microscope.  The 
compound  microscope  had  been  invented  two  hundred  and  fifty  years 
before  any  clearly  defined  ideas  of  the  unit  of  the  body  were  devel- 
oped. Since  the  year  1838,  however,  remarkable  advances  have  been 
made  in  biology,  or  the  science  of  life.  The  views  that  I  here  present 
are  substantially  those  of  Dr.  Lionel  Beale,  who  is  recognized  as  a  high 
authority  in  histology,  not  only  in  the  United  States,  but  also  in  Great 
Britain  and  Germany. 

If  we  place  a  piece  of  living  tissue  under  the  microscope,  we  shall 
see  three  things : 

I.  Nutrient  ^natter. — This  is  the  food  that  we  have  eaten. 
Through  the  process  of  digestion  it  has  been  reduced  to  a  state  in  which 
it  is  capable  of  being  converted  into  muscle,  bone,  nerve,  and  the  other 
tissues  of  the  body. 

2  .  Formed  matter,  or  the  characteristic  substance  of  muscle,  bofie, 
nerve,  and  the  other  tissues. 

3.  Germinal  or  living  matter. — This  exists  in  countless  minute 
particles  diffused  throughout  the  entire  body.  These  particles  vary  in 
size  from  1-100,000  to  1-120  of  an  inch  in  diameter.  The  usual  diam- 
-eter  is  from  1-6,000  to  1-3,000  of  an  inch.  A  conception  of  the 
minuteness  of  these  germinal  points  may  be  formed  from  the  statement 
that  an  army  of  ten  thousand  of  the  smallest  of  them  would  have  camp- 


98  ACTON  LECTURES.  . 

ing  room  on  the  point  of  a  sharp  needle,  and  at  least  that  number  ot 
the  average  size  could  march  and  counter-march  on  the  point  of  a  darn 
ing  needle. 

One-fifth  of  the  entire  mass  of  our  bodies  is  made  up  of  these  germ- 
inal points.  How  many  needle  points  are  there  in  a  mass  one-fifth  the 
size  of  your  body  ?  Multiply  that  number  by  ten  thousand,  and  you. 
approximate  the  number  of  the  minute,  independent  germinal  masses 
in  your  body.  Or,  again  :  How  many  needle  points  in  a  body  two 
thousand  times  as  large  as  your  own  ?  That  will  be  the  approximate 
number  of  these  germinal  masses  in  your  body.  Each  of  these  has  a 
separate,  independent  existence. 

What  are  these  infinitesimal  germinal  points  ? 

They  are  the  builders  of  the  body.  They  build  the  brain,  the 
eye,  the  nerve,  the  bone,  the  muscles,  the  veins,  the  arteries,  the 
lungs.  Fasten  your  attention  on  this  fundamental  fact :  They  build 
the  body. 

These  germinal  masses  are  of  the  same  chemical  composition  in 
every  part  of  the  body.  Further,  they  are  of  the  same  chemical  com- 
position in  all  living  bodies.  The  living  matter  in  the  tree,  the  flower, 
the  horse,  the  man,  is,  according  to  Prof.  Huxley,  identical  in  chem- 
ical composition.  This  germinal  matter  frequently  exists  by  itself,  and 
it  is  often  found  in  connection  with  formed  mattter.  These  elementary, 
living  units  are  called  cells. 

A  complete  cell  has  a  wall  of  formed  material  within  which  is  the 
germinal  matter.  The  formed  material,  or  cell  wall,  is  supposed  to- 
result  from  the  death  of  the  germinal,  or  living  matter. 

Conceive  a  minute,  rounded  mass  of  pure  living  matter.  It  be- 
gins to  die  at  its  surface,  and  in  its  death  is  converted  into  formed  ma- 
terial, which  remains  as  a  thin  shell  around  the  remnant  of  living  mat- 
ter within.  If  this  process  should  continue  without  a  fresh  supply  of 
living  matter  to  the  interior,  the  cell  would  soon  become  entirely 
formed  matter,  all  the  living  substance  dying,  and  being  thus  con- 
verted into  formed  substance.  But  when  the  cell  wall  begins  to  formi 
by^the  death  of  the  adjacent  living  matter,  the  nutrient  substance  from 
the  blood  vessels  permeates  the  cell  wall,  flows  to  the  center  of  the 
remnant  of  living  matter  and  is  converted  from  dead  nutrient  ma- 
terial into  fresh  germinal  or  living  material.  The  cell  will,  therefore,, 
increase  in  size  by  the  addition  of  formed  material  to  its  surface,  and 
the  creation  of  living  material  at  its  center. 

When  it  reaches  a  certain  size,  it  begins  to  subdivide ;  a  minute 
peninsular  mass  begins  to  form,  joined  to  the  mainland,  or  continental 
cell  by  an  isthmus  of  living  matter.    The  peninsula  increases  in  size 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


99 


and  the  isthmus  diminishes  until  the  peninsular  mass  is  set  free  and 
becomes  an  island  cell  in  all  respects  like  the  mainland  from  which  it 
was  produced.  This  cell,  like  its  parent,  grows  to  a  certain  size  and 
then  throws  off  another  cell  like  itself.    Thus  the  process  continues. 

In  some  cases  the  cell  wall  becomes  so  thick  that  the  nutrient 
matter  can  not  penetrate  it.  Under  these  circumstances  the  wall  con- 
tinues to  increase  by  the  death  of  the  living  matter  within,  until  the 
latter  completely  disappears  and  the  entire  cell  dies  and  is  removed 
from  the  body. 

Whence  do  these  cells  originate  ?  It  is  the  verdict  of  the  micro- 
scope, whether  before  atheistic,  theistic  or  indifferent  eyes,  that  every 
cell  comes  from  a  pre-existing  cell.  Fasten  this  fact  in  your  memory 
— no  cell  except  from  a  cell. 

Whence  the  first  one  ?  Trace  our  cells  back  to  those  of  our  pro- 
genitors. Trace  theirs,  if  you  wish,  by  a  long  and  tedious  journey 
down  the  declivity  of  evolution  to  those  of  their  hypothetical  progen- 
itors— the  lower  animals.  Trace  the  cells  of  the  animals  down  the 
steeps  of  evolution  until  you  arrive  at  the  simplest  form  of  life,  out  of 
which,  by  hypothesis,  the  whole  world  of  hfe  has  been  developed. 
Whence  came  those  original,  cells  ?  Had  they  existed  forever  ?  Ma- 
terialistic science  itself  says  no.  Materialistic  as  well  as  theistic  science 
asserts  that  there  was  a  time  when  no  life  could  exist  on  the  earth. 

There  was  a  time,  then,  when  by  the  admission  of  materialism  not 
a  cell  existed.  Look  again  upon  that  fundamental  fact :  No  cell  ex- 
cept from  a  cell.    Whence,  then,  came  the  first  cell  ? 

At  this  point  materialistic  science  does  what  it  unequivocally  con- 
demns in  Christian  science.  The  plank  of  knowledge  being  too  short 
to  bridge  the  chasm  between  livmg  and  unliving  matter,  it  deliberately 
steps  out  on  the  plank  of  faith.  ''Who,"  says  materialistic  science, 
will  set  limits  to  the  possible  play  of  molecules  in  a  coofing  planet  ?  " 
Somehow,  in  the  turmoil  of  a  cooling  planet,  the  atoms  may  have  for- 
tuitously rushed  together  in  such  proportion  as  to  give  birth  to-  the 
primordial  cell !  Can  there  be  a  more  notable  exercise  of  faith  than 
this  ? 

If  the  fortuitous  concourse  of  dead  atoms  could  give  birth  to  life, 
much  more  ought  the  skill  of  modern  chemistry  to  be  able  to  produce  it. 
But  materialists  as  well  as  theists  claim  that  there  are  now  no  cases  of 
the  spontaneous  origin  of  life ;  that  is,  there  is  no  life  except  from  pre- 
existing life. 

Dr.  Maudsley,  a  materialist  of  the  indifferent  school,  says  m  sub- 
stance : 


lOO 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


It  is  not  necessary  that  life  be  born  now  from  dead  matter.  If 
nature,  originally,  by  a  mighty  effort  gave  birth  to  life  from  dead  sub- 
stance, it  is  as  unnecessary  that  she  continue  this  process  now,  as  that 
the  savage  should  continue  to  rub  his  sticks  together  to  produce  fire 
after  he  has  obtained'  the  spark.  The  spark  being  obtained  by  the 
unusual  effort,  new  fire  may  be  easily  kindled  from  the  existing  fire.  Life 
being  born  by  an  unusual  throe  of  nature,  new  life  may  be  more  easily 
begotten  from  the  existing  life. 

Now,  is  it  not  true  that  sticks  when  rubbed  together  produce  the 
spark,  even  though  the  world  be  full  of  fire?  And  when  the  molecules  of 
dead  matter  clash  with  each  other  they  ought  to  give  birth  to  life,  even 
though  the  world  be  full  of  life.  But  the  stern  word  of  science  still  is : 
Life  from  life  only ;  a  cell  from  a  cell  only. 

Physical  force,  then,  being  unable  to  produce  living  from  not  liv- 
ing matter,  the  question  again  recurs  :  Whence  the  first  cell  ?  And, 
also,  whence  the  Force  in  an  existing  cell  that  can  raise  dead  matter 
to  life?  Matter  says:  "It  is  not  in  me."  There  is  such  force.  If 
it  is  not  in  matter,  it  must  be  out  of  matter.  This  force  is  in  man  and 
all  living  organisms.  Therefore,  there  is  something  in  living  organisms 
that  is  not  matter. 

Return  to  our  fundamental  proposition  :  '  'The  whole  can  not  be 
greater  than  the  sum  of  its  parts."  You  can  not  stretch  two  and  two 
into  five.  Put  two  and  two  together,  and  before  you  can  get  five  you 
must  add  one.  Put  matter  and  its  laws  together,  and  before  you  can 
get  life,  you  must  add  One ;  and  that  One  is  God. 

I  propose  to  lead  you  another  stage  along  the  path  of  science,  and 
again  bring  you  face  to  face  with  God.  ^ 

If  the  time  shall  come,  as  materiafistic  science  hopes,  when  spon- 
taneous generation  of  life  shall  be  shown  to  be  possible,  the  fact  will 
not  in  the  least  invalidate  the  preceding  argument.  Nevertheless,  our 
second  stage  along  the  path  of  science  shall  be  independent  of  the  first. 
I  shall  not,  in  this  stage,  make  any  assumption  concerning  the  origin 
of  the  cell.  Let  its  origin  be  as  it  may,  does  it  behave  like  matter  ? 
By  matter,  I  mean  what  is  generally  understood  by  the  term.  If  you 
define  matter  differently,  you  do  not  gain  your  point.  I  can  prove 
anything  if  you  will  give  me  unbridled  liberty  in  my  definitions.  If 
you  define  matter  as  a  substance  that  thinks,  I  shall  not  raise  serious 
objection,  except  on  etymological  grounds.  Let  that  be  the  definition 
if  )'OU  wish :  then  a  rock,  a  book,  a  chair,  are  not  matter,  for  they  do 
not  think.  What  I  urge  is  this, — there  are  two  substances  in  the  uni- 
verse, antipodally  unlike  each  other,  and  absolutely  incapable  of  grada- 
tions into  each  other.    If  you  call  one  of  them  matter,  you  do  not  an- 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


lOI 


nihilate  the  other.  Established  usage  calls  the  rock,  the  chair,  the 
book,  matter.    So  let  it  be.    Then  the  other  substance  I  call  mind. 

Now,  I  repeat  the  question:  Let  the  cell  originate  as  it  may, 
does  it  behave  like  matter  ?  Fix  your  attention  once  more  on  the  na- 
ture and  functions  of  germinal  matter. 

1.  It  is  absolutely  identical  in  composition  in  all  parts  of  the 
same  body,  and  in  all  bodies.  In  man,  lion,  bird,  fish,  reptile,  tree, 
shrub,  flower  and  lichen,  the  germinal  matter  is  chemically  the  same. 

2.  It  is  the  builder  of  the  body. 

3.  It  is  apparejitly  structureless;  that  is,  there  is  neither  muscle, 
nor  bone,  nor  nerve,  nor  brain  in  it.  It  is  totally  unlike  the  tissues 
which  it  builds. 

Now,  from  this  substance,  common  to  all  animals  and  plants, 
and  chemically  the  same  wherever  found,  come  forth  muscle,  nerve, 
brain,  bone,  tendon,  artery,  vein,  capillary,  horn,  wood,  bark,  flower, 
leaf,  and  the  countless  products  of  Hfe. 

Imagine  a  number  of  undeveloped  babes  in  all  respects  alike. 
Let  it  be  the  first  moment  of  their  existence.  They  are  totally  desti- 
tute of  knowledge.  In  this  condition  of  intellectual  blankness  they  ac- 
complish wonders.  Out  of  this  emptiness  one  gives  to  the  world 
Homer's  Iliad;  another,  Milton's  Paradise  Lost;  another,  Cicero's 
Orations;  and  others,  Hamilton's  Philosophies,  Mill's  Logic,  Butler's 
Analogy,  Newton's  Principia,  La  Place's  Mecanique  Celeste,  Beetho- 
ven's Ninth  Symphony,  Handel's  Messiah,  Haydn's  Creation,  Mozart's 
Twelfth  Mass,  Mendelssohn's  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  the  print- 
ing press,  the  steam  engine,  the  telegraph,  the  telephone,  

What  do  you  say  ?  It  can  not  be.  There  is  some  unseen  hand  be- 
hind those  unknowing  babes  that  has  brought  forth  these  w^orks  of  im- 
mortality. And  when  you  tell  me  that  from  the  same  mass  of  mere 
structureless  matter  the  countless  forms  of  life  have  come,  I  say  it  can 
not  be.  There  is  some  force  behind  the  cell  but  not  of  the  cell  that 
builds  up  the  infinite  varieties  of  life. 

Do  you  call  it  molecular  machinery  ?  But  can  the  same  machine 
turn  out  pins,  needles,  watches,  plows,  household  furniture,  railroad 
iron,  nails,  horse  shoes,  pianos,  French  harps,  printing  presses,  books, 
pen  knives,  reapers,  and  the  million  products  of  art  ?  Further,  can  a 
machine  of  its  own  power  turn  out  innumerable  other  similar  machines 
with  similar  powers  ?  Still  further,  can  any  machine  turn  out  even  its 
appropriate  product  without  a  machinist  ?  Molecular  machinery  and 
physical  law  can  not  turn  out  a  single  tissue.  They  lack  a  machinist. 
Two  and  two  can  not  make  five.  Two  and  two  and  one  make  five. 
Structureless  germinal  matter  and  physical  law  can  not  build  the  tissues; 
they  lack  One,  and  that  Oi\e  is  God. 


102 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


Let  us  advance  one  stage  further  along  the  scientific  pathway  that 
leads  to  God.  Here  let  us  be  independent  of  both  the  former  steps.  In 
this  stage  I  shall  not  question  even  the  power  of  the  cell  to  build  the  vari- 
ous structures  of  life.  ^  I  question  merely  its  infaUibility  of  knowledge. 
I  question  merely  the  proposition  that  it  can  never  make  mistakes;  that  it 
is  so  far  reaching  in  its  wisdom  as  never  to  build  a  leaf  where  there  ought 
to  be  bark ;  a  root  where  there  ought  to  be  a  trunk ;  a  fin  where  there 
ought  to  be  a  gill ;  a  nerve  where  there  ought  to  be  a  bone ;  an  eye 
where  there  ought  to  be  an  ear.  My  credulity  is  not  so  great  that  I 
can  readily  beHeve  that  ten  million  million  ^vorkers  in  different  parts  of 
the  same  body  and  in  different  bodies,  should,  without  a  superintendent, 
be  so  harmonious  as  never  to  clash. 

It  is  said  that  no  sound  of  instruments  was  heard  in  the  erection 
of  vSolomon's  Temple.  When  the  materials  were  brought  together  al- 
ready wrought  out,  stone  corresponded  to  stone,  archway  to  arch,  cap- 
ital to  shaft,  column  to  pedestal,  temple  to  foundation.  Did  the  work- 
man in  the  different  parts  of  the  quarry  and  forest  have  no  concert  of 
action?  Did  they  have  no  plan  ?  Did  they  hew  out  their  timbers  and 
cut  out  their  rock  with  no  forecast  ?  And  then,  fortuitously,  did  rock 
fit  rock  in  the  magnificent  structure?  -Or  was  there  a  master  architect 
in  whose  mmd  the  whole  plan  of  the  temple  was  pictured  before  the 
first  blow  was  struck? 

Who  taught  tlie  nerve  builders  the  nature  of  muscular  fiber  that 
they  should  build  nerve  with  the  power  and  for  the  purpose  of  sending 
impulses  ?  Who  taught  the  muscle  builders  the  nature  of  nervous  in- 
fluence that  they  should  put  contractility  into  muscular  fibers  ?  Who 
taught  the  army  of  opticians  the  nature  of  light  that  they  should  con- 
struct an  eye  adapted  to  receive  it  ?  Who  taught  the  eye  builders  of 
the  finny  tribes  the  physical  truth  that  light  passing  from  water  into 
the  eye  is  not  bent  from  its  course  so  much  as  when  entering  it  from 
the  air,  and  charged  them  to  make  the  crystalline  lenses  of  the  aquatic 
animals  so  much  more  convex  than  those  of  land  animals?  Who 
taught  the  heart  builders  the  principles  of  hydrodynamics ;  the  lung 
builders  the  principles  of  osmose ;  the  ear  builders  the  principles  of 
acoustics ;  the  gland  builders  the  principles  of  secretion ;  in  fine,  who 
taught  the  countless  procession  of  germinal  workers  the  vast  fund  of 
knowledge  that  touches  upon  infinity  ?  The  workmanship  of  the  ger- 
minal artisans  gives  unmistakable  evidence  of  far  reaching  design. 
Whose  design?  Not  that  of  the  workmen,  for  every  moment  they  are 
falling  at  their  posts  by  the  million. 

The  cathedral  at  Milan  has  been  five  centuries  in  building,  and 
may  not  be  completed  for  centuries  to  come.    The  workmen  who  laid 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


103 


the  first  stone  were  long  since  put  in  their  graves.  Fifteen  generations 
have  put  their  hibor  in  the  imposing  structure.  And  still  the  work 
goes  forward,  but  with  a  plan.  Whose  plan  ?  That  of  the  workmen 
who  fell  at  their  posts?  In  the  year  1387  the  picture  of  that  building 
in  its  completeness  stood  out  before  the  mind  of  the  master  architect. 

What  Architect  laid  the  plan  of  our  bodies,  and  of  every  living 
.thing  on  the  land,  or  in  air,  or  ocean  ?  Who  teaches  the  life  builders 
which  every  moment  come  upon  the  scene  of  labor  to  take  the  places 
=of  their  predecessors,  when,  and  where,  and  how  to  work  Whose  de- 
sign ?    Not  that  of  the  life  builders. 

Two  and  two  can  not  make  five.  They  lack  one.  Life  builders 
and  physical  law  can  not  build  the  organism.  They  lack  One.  That 
One  is  a  Designer,  and  that  Designer  is  God. 

There  is,  then,  in  the  universe  a  substance  external  to  matter. 
That  substance  is  what  we  call  spirit.    That  Spirit  is  God. 

This  being  demonstrated,  it  is  logically  possible  that  there  may  be 
a  substance  in  the  human  body  external  to  its  material  organization.  If 
so,  it  is  the  substance  we  call  soul.  Is  there  a  soul  in  man  ?  Or  is 
there  nothing  of  man  but  the  clash  of  atoms  ?  Are  reason,  choice, 
love,  hope,  pity,  sympathy,  joy,  sorrow,  grief,  remorse,  but  the  off- 
spring of  molecular  commotion  ?  Does  the  brain  secrete  thought  as 
the  stomach  gastric  juice?  And  when  the  brain,  like  the  stomach, 
•disorganizes,  will  thought,  like  gastric  juice,  cease?  In  short,  is  there 
nothing  in  man  but  what  we  see  ? 

I  might  at  this  point  logically  pursue  the  path  that  is  frequently 
trodden,  and  demand  the  expression  in  physical  terms  of  the  various 
products  of  thought.  I  might  demand  the  color  of  judgment,  the 
weight  of  a  volition,  the  shape  of  love,  the  length  of  a  choice,  the  elas- 
ticity of  despair,  and  the  ductility  of  hope.  For  if  thoughts,  feelings 
and  vohtions,  like  gastric  juice,  are  physical  products,  they  must,  like 
gastric  juice,  be  capable  of  physical  measurement.  Molecular  motion 
in  the  brain  may  be  converted  into  heat,  and  this  heat  in  turn,  when 
.thrown  back  upon  the  brain,  will  be  reconverted  into  molecular  mo- 
tion. Now,  if  molecular  motion,  alone,  produces  thought,  where  is 
the  chemist  that  can  bind  that  thought  and  hurl  it  back  upon  the  brain 
to  be  reconverted  into  molecular  motion  ?  But  I  shall  not  pursue  this 
path. 

What  does  the  microscope  see  behind  the  molecules  in  man  ?  It 
sees  enough  to  justify  the  unequivocal  declaration  that  there  is  a  soul 
in  man,  external  to  his  bodily  organism,  and  essentially  distinct  in  its 
nature  from  the  atoms  of  his  body,  or  from  any  possible  combination 
•of  those  atoms. 


104 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


The  immovable  foundation  on  which  microscopic  science  builds 
the  distinct  existence  of  an  immaterial  soul  in  man  is  the  continuity  of 
consciousness. 

I  am  the  same  person  to-day  that  I  have  been  at  every  point  of  my 
life.  I  remember  what  occurred  ten  years  ago.  What  is  an  act  of 
memory  ?  It  is  the  calling  up  of  a  former  conception.  What  is  my 
act  when  I  remember?  I  call  up  a  former  conception.  Whose  con- 
ception ?  My  own.  Then  1  must  have  lived  at  the  time  when  I  held 
this  conception.  Memory,  then,  necessitates  self-consciousness.  Self- 
consciousness  necessitates  self.  The  self  of  ten  years  ago  and  the  self 
of  to-day  are  one  and  the  same. 

What  constitutes  the  self?  The  clash  of  atoms  ?  Let  the  micro- 
scope respond.  At  no  two  successive  moments  in  a  man's  life  is  his 
body  the  same.  Several  times  a  year  some  of  the  tissues  of  his  body 
are  completely  changed.  Every  year  he  enters  on  his  work  with  a 
body  entirely  new,  unless  we  except  a  small  portion  of  extremely 
durable  substance ;  and  if  he  lives  to  a  ripe  age  he  changes  his  body  a 
great  number  of  times. 

What  constitutes  the  self?  The  clash  of  atoms?  But  a  new 
combination  of  atoms  arises  at  each  successive  moment  of  life;  and  if 
the  atoms  that  formed  my  body  ten  years  ago  were  brought  face  to  face 
with  the  present  generation,  they  would  be  strangers  to  each  other. 
But  I  recognize  my  former  self  as  being  absolutely  my  present  self. 
During  all  this  period  the  self  has  not  changed.  During  this  period 
the  atoms  have  changed.    Therefore  the  atom,s  are  not  the  self. 

This  incontrovertible  declaration  of  the  microscope  the  materialist 
attempts  to  answer  thus  :  The  cells  in  which  memory  and  conscious- 
ness are  located,  although  being  constantly  removed  from  the  body, 
are  replaced  by  other  cells  that  are  in  all  points  like  their  predecessors. 
The  quality  in  a  cell  which  constituted  memory  is  reproduced  in  suc- 
ceeding cells. 

In  reply  to  this  I  have  to  say : 

1.  It  is  mere  dogma,  for  the  microscope  does  not  reveal  its  truth. 

2.  If  it  were  fact,  the  successive  cells  are  not  identical  but  merely 
similar.  I  am  not  the  similar  self  that  I  was  ten  years  ago,  but  the 
same.  If  the  cells  were  formed  in  perfect  copy  of  their  predecessors, 
they  would  still  be  different  cells.  I  tear  a  page  from  this  book  and 
substitute  another  in  its  place.  It  is  not  the  identical  book.  I  remove 
page  after  page,  and  insert  page  after  page,  until  the  entire  book  has 
been  replaced.  It  is  a  different  book.  What  matters  it  though  every 
new  page  have  the  same  print  on  its  face  ?    It  is  a  different  book^ 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


What  matters  it  though  every  new  cell  have  the  print  of  its  predeces- 
sor ?  It  is  still  a  different  cell.  But  self  is  the  same  that  it  was  ten 
years  ago. 

Does  the  brain  secrete  thought  as  the  stomach  secretes  gastric 
juice  ?  Then  the  new  brain  must  secrete  new  thought.  For  the  gas- 
tric juice  secreted  by  the  stomach  is  not  identical  at  any  two  periods. 
The  only  case  in  w^hich  it  could  be  identical  would  be  when  in  the 
course  of  one's  life  the  identical  elements  might  fortuitously  return  to 
the  blood  and  be  again  combined  in  the  exact  order  of  their  previous 
composition.  But  my  thoughts  to-day  on  this  topic  are  identically 
what  they  were  when  I  meditated  upon  it  in  my  study.  I  have  to-day 
the  identical  thoughts  that  I  entertained  twenty  years  ago.  But  my 
gastric  juice  of  to-day  is  different  from  that  of  twenty  years  ago.  It  is  an 
axiom  of  mathematics  that  a  constant  product  can  not  result  from  a 
variable  multiplier.  Thought,  a  constant  quantity,  can  not  be  the 
product  of  molecular  action,  a  variable  multiplier. 

In  1683,  Roger  Williams  died,  and  his  body  was  buried  in  the  fam- 
ily cemetery.  A  few  years  ago,  when  the  grave  was  opened,  a  strange 
transformation  met  the  eye.  An  apple  tree  growing  in  the  vicinity 
had  sent  its  root  down  deep  into  the  earth.  The  root  pressed  open 
the  coffin  lid.  It  grew  along  the  form  of  the  dead  body,  spreading  out 
into  arms,  fingers  and  lower  extremities,  and  silently  robbed  the  coffin 
of  its  former  inmate.  The  body  was  transformed  into  the  root  of  an 
apple  tree.  Was  that  root  Roger  Williams  ?  Up  through  the  sap 
went  the  atoms  from  the  body  of  Roger  WilUams  and  appeared  on  the 
branches  as  apples.  The  grave  digger  ate  the  apples,  and  a  part  of 
the  molecular  machinery  that  ceased  its  work  when  Roger  Williams 
died  was  again  set  up  in  the  brain  of  the  grave  digger.  Suppose  every 
atom  from  the  coffin  had  been  transferred  to  the  body  of  the  grave 
digger,  would  he  have  become  Roger  Williams  ?  Would  the  con- 
sciousness of  Roger  Williams  have  reappeared,  and  the  consciousness 
of  the  grave  digger  have  disappeared  fn  this  exchange  of  molecular 
machinery  ? 

The  continuity  and  inexchangeability  of  consciousness  in  the 
presence  of  a  ceaselessly  changing  molecular  organism  are  Gibraltars 
overhanging  the  sea  of  thought,  upon  which  an  immaterial  and  un- 
changing soul  walks  with  Godlike  tread. 

Two  and  two  and  one  make  five.  Molecular  machinery  and  law 
and  one  make  man,  and  that  one  is  the  soul. 

I  shall  present  you  one  more  glimpse  of  the  soul.  I  shall  lead 
you  into  the  holy  of  holies  of  the  human  temple  and  bring  you  face  to 
face  with  the  glory  that  dwells  between  the  cherubim.    The  body's 


io6 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


holy  of  holies  is  the  nervous  mechanism ;  the  cherubim  are  the  cerebral 
hemispheres  of  bram,  and  the  glory  that  hides  there  by  night  and  by 
day  is  the  soul. 

If  it  were  necessary  in  the  interests  of  science  I  might  present  be- 
fore you  to-day  a  living  frog  with  its  brain  removed.  It  would  be  ut- 
terly incapable  of  movement  unless  acted  upon  by  an  external  agency. 
Imagine  it  here  in  the  palm  of  my  hand.  Unless  disturbed  from  with- 
out it  will  quietly  sit  there  without  the  slightest  movement.  As  I  turn 
my  hand  it  gradually  climbs  the  inclined  plane.  When  my  hand 
reaches  a  vertical  position,  the  frog  is  found  quietly  seated  upon  the 
edge.  I  continue  the  motion  until  the  back  of  my  hand  is  uppermost, 
and  the  frog  gradually  goes  down  the  inclined  plane  until  it  secures 
a  permanent  footing.  If  I  reverse  my  movements,  the  frog  does  like- 
wise, but  it  makes  no  motion  whatever,  unless  it  is  stimulated  from 
without.  I  put  a  drop  of  vinegar  on  its  right  thigh.  Instantly  its  right 
foot  moves  to  the  point  of  irritation  and  rubs  off  the  vinegar.  If  I 
hold  its  right  foot,  the  other  is  drawn  around  to  remove  the  irritant. 
When  I  remove  the  vinegar,  the  frog  is  quiet.  In  other  words,  a  brain- 
less frog  is  a  mere  automaton.  If  I  could  replace  the  brain  and  restore 
the  frog  to  its  normal  condition,  it  would  immediately  leap  from  my 
hand  of  its  own  accord  and  without  any  external  excitement  whatever. 
It  would  then  be  capable  of  self-movement.  In  other' words,  a  frog 
with  brains  can  originate  movements,  while  the  motions  of  a  frog  with- 
out brains  are  purely  automatic. 

A  similar  experiment  with  a  bird  would  result  similarly.  A  brain- 
less bird  will  be  motionless  unless  stimulated  externally.  Throw  it 
from"  your  hand  and  the  resistance  of  the  air  will  excite  motion  in  its 
wings.  It  will  fly  directly  forward  till  it  meets  some  impediment. 
When  the  new  external  resistance  gives  it  a  new  impetus,  it  will  either 
drop  to  the  ground  or  continue  its  flight  in  a  direction  determined  by 
the  impediment.  A  brainless  bird  is  an  automaton.  A  bird  with 
brains  flies,  ceases  flying  or  Changes  its  course  without  any  external 
stimulus. 

You  all  know  how  a  headless  chicken  behaves.  Its  violent  con- 
tortions, which  are  usually,  though  incorrectly,  supposed  to  be  the  re- 
sult of  pain,  are  entirely  automatic.  If  its  head  could  be  quietly  sev- 
ered without  disturbing  the  other  portions  of  its  body,  the  headless 
chicken  would  make  no  manifestations  whatever.  It  is  only  when 
some  other  portion  of  its  body  is  irritated  by  external  pressure  that  the 
violent  muscular  action  is  manifested.  But  a  chicken  with  a  head  is 
master  of  its  muscular  apparatus. 

A  brainless  man  would  also  be  an  automaton.  He  would  act  only 
when  acted  upon  by  external  agencies.   Many  of  our  actions  are  purely 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


107 


.automatic.  Crently  touch  on  the  l)Ottom  of  the  foot  a  man  who  is  asleep 
•or  intently  engaged  upon  an  interesting  topic  of  thought.  He  will  quietly 
withdraw  his  foot  without  being  aware  of  the  act.  (lently  touch  with 
a  feather  the  back  part  of  the  ear  of  one  who  is  wrapt  in  contemplation, 
and  instantly,  yet  unconsciously,  the  hand  will  fly  up  to  the  ear  to 
■brush  away  the  intruder.  These,  together  with  thousands  of  our  un- 
perceived  motions,  are  completely  automatic.  Indeed,  acts  that  are 
voluntary  may,  by  long  habit,  become  automatic;  such  as  the  enunci- 
ation of  sounds  in  talking,  and  the  actions  of  the  muscles  in  standing 
•or  walking.  Our  actions,  like  those  of  the  lower  animals,  are  both 
•  automatic  and  volitional.  Our  automatic  action  is  less  varied;  our  vo- 
litional action  is  more  varied.  We  are  poorer  automatons  than  frogs, 
ibut  much  higher  volitional  agents. 

What  does  the  microscope  see  of  these  automatic  and  volitional  sys- 
tems in  man  ?  It  sees  enough  to  place  an  immaterial  and  immortal 
soul  between  the  cherubim  in  the  holy  of  holies. 

The  microscope  reveals  two  systems  of  nerves,  wdiich  I  shall  term 
the  automatic  and  the  volitional  systems.  Let  me  first  describe  the 
automatic  system.  I  shall  substantially  follow  Dr.  J.  W.  Draper,  who 
•can  not  be  suspected  of  being  tinged  with  theology. 

I  find  a  nerve  at  the  surface  of  my  body.  I  trace  it  through 
the  tissues  until  it  comes  to  a  small  knot  of  nervous  matter. 
This  knot  is  called  a  ganglion.  The  nerve  leaves  the  ganglion, 
and  I  continue  the  trace  until  I  find  the  other  extremity 
•attached  to  a  aiuscle.  One  extremity  of  the  nerve  is  free  at  the 
-surface  of  the  body;  the  other  extremity  is  fastened  to  a  muscle,  and 
along  its  course  it  has  passed  through  the  ganglion  of  nervous  substance. 
Keep  these  three  things  clearly  before  the  mind:  The  ganglion,  and 
"the  two  parts  of  the  nerve.  The  portion  of  the  nerve  between  the  sur- 
face of  the  body  and  the  ganglion  is  called  an  afferent  nerve ;  the  por- 
tion between  the  ganglion  and  the  muscle  is  called  an  efferent  nerve. 
If  that  nerve  be  excited  by  electricity  on  either  side  of  the  ganglion, 
in  either  the  afferent  or  the  efferent  portion,  the  muscle  to  which  it  is 
attached  will  instantly  contract. 

The  ganglion  does  not  change  the  nature  of  the  nervous  force 
passing  through  it,  but  merely  retains  a  portion  of  it,  and  thus  becomes 
a  reservoir  of  nervous  influence.  In  some  of  these  ganglia  the  force 
is  retained  permanently,  and  this  permanent  retention  of  the  force  is 
supposed  to  be  the  physical  basis  of  memory.  We  need  nothing,  how- 
ever, for  the  argument  but  the  elementary  facts.  Stimulus  at  the  free 
extremity  of  a  nerve  appears  as  motion  at  the  other  extremity.  External 
•irritation  here  causes  motion  yonder. 


io8 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


But  this  system  of  nerves  never  originates  motion.  Motion  in  the- 
muscles,  through  the  automatic  system,  must  be  originated  without. 
This  system,  in  itself,  is  absolutely  inert.  Thus  far  man  is  only  an. 
automaton.  Do  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  the  automatic  system  is 
motionless  and  passive  in  the  absence  of  the  proper  external  agency  to 
excite  it.  The  apparatus  of  sight,  hearing,  taste,  smell  and  touch  is. 
wholly  automatic.  It  must  be  excited  by  the  appropriate  external 
agency.  Light  sets  in  motion  the  automatic  machinery  of  the  eye; 
sound,  that  of  the  ear  ;  odor,  that  of  the  nose  ;  and  resistance,  that  or 
touch.  By  no  possible  means  can  these  agencies  exchange  functions. 
Waves  of  light  will  not  affect  the  ear  ;  waves  of  sound  will  not  aifect 
the  eye  ;  and  neither  of  these  will  affect  either  taste,  smell  or  touch. 
Let  me  again  insist  that  these  external  systems  are  automatic  and  be- 
yond the  reach  of  the  will.  We  can  not  see  in  the  darkness  nor  hear 
silence,  however  vigorously  we  may  will  to  do  so.  These  mechan- 
isms are  passive,  and  only  to  be  set  in  motion  by  the  appropriate 
external  causes. 

This,  then,  is  the  automatic  system  in  man,  consisting  of  free  af- 
ferent nerves,  ganglia  and  attached  efferent  nerves. 

Does  the  microscopic  vision  cease  here  ?  No.  It  peers  behind 
the  brain  itself  and  finds  the  other  system  of  nerves  that  I  have  called 
the  volitional  system.  Now,  mark  !  There  is  a  similarity  between  the 
mechanism  of  the  volitional  and  that  of  the  automatic  system.  In  botli 
systems  there  are  free  afferent  nerves;  there  are  ganglia;  there  are  at- 
tached efferent  nerves.  The  resemblance  is  complete.  Now,  if  the 
automatic  system  is  inert,  '  so  is  the  volitional  system.  If  the 
automatic  system  can  not  originate  its  own  motion,  neither  can  the  vo- 
litional system  originate  its  own  motion.  If  the  automatic  system  be- 
fore it  can  manifest  any  change  must  be  acted  upon  by  an  external 
agency,  so  must  the  volitional  system  be  acted  upon  by  an  agency  ex- 
ternal to  itself  before  it  can  manifest  change.  For  one  is  no  more 
inert  than  the  other.  Facts  demonstrate  that  the  automatic  system  is. 
inert  without  an  external  stimulus ;  therefore,  the  volitional  system, 
which  is  no  less  inert,  and  yet  which  manifests  movements,  is  acted 
upon  by  some  external  agent.  We  call  that  agent  the  soul.  Its  dwell- 
ing place  is  between  the  cherubim  in  the  holy  of  holies. 

Pass  a  current  of  electricity  through  the  automatic  system :  you 
produce  muscular  motion.  May  it  not,  then,  be  electricity  that  excites, 
the  volitional  system  to  action  ?  Test  it.  Put  your  battery  in  opera- 
tion. Carefully  make  your  connections.  Send  the  swift  current 
through  the  brain.    Lo !  the  muscles  of  the  volitional  system  do  not 


ACTON  LECIURES. 


respond.  They  have  been  accustomed  to  receive  mandates  from  a 
higher  and  holier  voice.  A  mightier  power  than  electricity  sits  between 
the  cherubim.    It  is  the  soul. 

As  Lazarus  came  forth  from  the  grave,  not  at  the  tears  and  cries 
3ind  words  of  his  stricken  sisters,  but  at  the  Divine  Voice  that  in  the 
beginning  said,  "  Let  there  be  light,"  so  the  motionless  muscle  in  the 
volitional  system  springs  into  life,  not  at  the  clash  of  atoms  or  the  elec- 
tric flash,  but  at  the  Godlike  voice  of  the  soul. 

An  external  agent  is  necessary  to  set  in  motion  the  automatic 
mechanism  of  the  eye.  That  agent  we  call  light.  An  external  agent 
is  equally  necessary  to  set  in  motion  the  equally  inert  mechanism  of 
the  volitional  system.  That  agent  we  call  the  soul.  From  the  convex- 
ity of  the  eye,  its  humors,  its  retma  and  other  portions,  the  physicist 
-determines,  in  part  at  least,  the  nature  of  light.  From  the  structure  of 
the  volitional  system,  the  physiologist  no  less  certainly  demonstrates, 
in  part,  the  nature  of  the  soul.  As  the  convexity  of  the  eye  demon- 
strates the  refrangibility  of  light,  so  the  complicated  structure  of  the 
volitional  system  demonstrates  the  intellect,  the  feeling,  and  the  will  of 
the  soul.  The  soul  must  have  intellect  to  perceive  the  intricate  rela- 
tions of  the  mechanism ;  feeling,  as  the  spring  of  action  ;  and  will,  to 
carry  into  execution  its  purposes  concerning  the  mechanism. 

The  microscope,  then,  furnishes  the  same  evidence  of  the  exist- 
ence of  the  soul  that  our  senses  furnish  of  the  existence  of  an  external 
world.  Is  there  an  external  world  acting  upon  the  eye,  the  ear  and 
the  various  organs  of  sense  ?  Then  there  is  an  external  essence  acting 
upon  the  brain,  and  that  essence  is  the  soul. 

But  what  of  its  immortality  ?  Will  the  agent  that  sets  in  motion 
the  volitional  machinery  continue  to  exist  after  the  machinery  has 
been  taken  down? 

Do  waves  of  light  cease  when  the  eye  is  closed  in  death  ?  Does 
the  air  cease  to  vibrate  when  the  ear  has  decayed  in  the  grave  ?  Does 
the  external  world  rush  into  non-existence  when  the  automatic  nervous 
mechanism  is  taken  apart  ?  Then  by  analogy — which  is,  after  all, 
mankind's  universal  mode  of  argument — the  substance  that  sets  in  mo- 
tion the  volitional  machinery  may  exist  after  the  brain  has  returned  to 
<iust.  There  will  be  ail  external  world  when  there  are  no  eyes ;  and 
there  may  be  a  soul  when  there  is  no  brain. 

The  microscope  demonstrates  the  existence  of  the  soul,  and  the 
possibility  and  probability  of  its  immortality.  To  this  add  the  dogma 
of  materialistic  science, — Force  is  indestructible, — and  materialism 
itself  is  made  to  demonstrate  the  imperishability  of  the  soul.  Its  own 
^unwilling  hands  are  compelled  to  put  the  keystone  in  the  arch  of 


I  lO 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


immortality.  If  force  is  indestructible,  the  agent  that  dwells  behind  the* 
brain  can  never  cease  to  exist.  Science  does  not  attempt  to  account 
for  the  origin  of  this  force,  but,  given  its  existence  now,  its  existence- 
forever  is  assured.  It  is  materialistic  science  which  claims  that  force 
is  really  indestructible.  I  claim,  merely,  that  force  is  undestroyed„. 
but  its  absolute  indestructibility  I  dare  not  affirm.  Force  is  unde- 
stroyed ;  and  since  God  is  uniform  in  his  action,  we  may  reasonably 
suppose  that  it  will  never  be  destroyed.  But  let  us  not  forget  the  fact 
that  from  the  one  incontrovertible  proposition  that  two  and  two  catii 
not  make  five,  materialism  is  itself  the  architect  of  the  structure  of  im- 
mortality. 

Since  the  mind  appears  to  grow  with  the  de\  elopment  of  the  body 
and  to  decline  with  its  decay,  does  it  not  seem  reasonable  that  it  will 
entirely  cease  its  activities  with  the  death  of  the  body  ? 

The  reply  to  this  question  is  evident  from  what  has  already  been 
said.  The  body  is  merely  the  instrument  of  the  mind.  The  skill  of 
an  artist  does  not  cease  when  his  chisel  breaks.  The  work  that  he  does 
depends  upon  his  chisel,  but  his  skill  remains  after  his  instrument  is  gone^ 

The  musician  sits  down  before  his  piano.  Day  after  day,  year- 
after  year,  he  applies  himself  to  his  work.  His  skill  increases,  but  his 
piano  grows  old.  The  keys  become  yellow.  The  pedal  breaks;  the 
wires  snap,  and  finally  the  old  instrument  is  laid  aside  for  a  new  and 
better  one.  But  his  skill  is  most  acute  at  the  last,  although  he  can 
wake  no  music  in  the  worn  out  instrument.  And  who  shall  say  that 
the  soul  has  lost  its  power  when  the  key-board  on  which  it  has  so  long 
been  accustomed  to  play  has  become  worn  ?  And  who  shall  say  that 
the  skill  of  the  soul  ceases  when  the  key-board  falls  to  wreck  ?  Who 
can  set  limits  to  the  instrument  that  may  then  be  set  before  it  for  its- 
immortal  fingers  to  strike  ?  Some  pianos  have  such  small  key-boards 
that  the  music  of  the  masters  can  not  be  played  upon  them.  Other 
things  being  equal,  the  value  of  a  musical  instrument  depends  upon 
the  range  of  its  key-board.  Upon  two  or  three  octaves  the  variety  of 
music  is  limited.  Upon  the  full  seven  or  eight  octaves  the  variety  is 
indefinitely  increased.  Connect  a  dozen  instruments  with  one  key-board, 
as  is  done  in  the  grand  organ,  and  the  variety  is  beyond  limits.  On 
such  an  instrument  as  this  the  Ninth  Symphony  of  Beethoven  stirs  us 
to  the  depths. 

If  the  soul  can  wake  such  melodious  conceptions  as  the  Iliad,  the 
yEneid,  and  Paradise  Lost,  when  playing  on  an  instrument  of  only  five 
keys  imperfectly  tuned,  what  shall  be  the  anthems  of  thought  when  it 
shall  sweep  the  key-board  of  an  instrument  whose  strings  are  never 
untuned  and  w^hose  keys  outnumber  the  stars  of  Heaven ! 


The  Land  of  Thor; 


0  R,  A  JOURNEY  THROUGH  NORWAY. 


BY  REV.  D.  W.  FISHER,  D.  D., 

President  of  Hanover  College. 


My  companion  and  I  were  sitting  in  the  Hotel  de  Russie^  in  Geneva, 
Switzerland,  one  hot  day  in  July,  and  were  debating  the  question 
whether  we  should  continue  our  journey  from  Chamonny  and  Mount 
Blanc  over  the  Simplon  Pass  to  Milan  and  Venice  and  onward  to  Pesth. 
That  had  been  our  plan.  But  persons  coming  up  from  Southern  Italy 
reported  the  heat  almost  unendurable.  A  still  greater  difficulty  was 
the  rising  war  cloud  between  Russia  and  Turkey.  Travel,  especially 
on  the  lower  Danube,  was  of  doubtful  expediency  even  if  practicable 
under  the  existing  circumstances. 

From  early  boyhood  I  had  felt  a  desire  to  visit  those  northern 
countries  of  Europe  to  which  the  name  of  Scandinavia  has  been  given, 
I  had  for  some  days  been  revolving  in  my  own  mind  the  project  of 
then  turning  our  faces  thitherward,  and  had  reached  the  point  where  I 
thought  it  desirable  to  broach  the  matter  to  my  companion.  The  words 
had  scarcely  passed  my  lips  when  the  plan  was  eagerly  approved. 
And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  we,  in  ten  days,  were  back  in  London, 
for  that  was  the  best  point  to  start  on  the  journey. 

The  outfit  for  a  trip  through  Norway  is  easily  completed.  It  con- 
sists principally  of  laying  aside  every  article  of  dress  or  convenience 
which,  by  any  possibility,  can  be  regarded  as  superfluous.  In  the  in- 
terior of  that  country  there  is  no  use  for  finery,  and  transportation  of 
t>aggage  is  too  difficult  to  encourage  luxury.  I  have  known  gentlemen 
to  travel  hundreds  of  miles  with  no  other  impediment  than  a  satchel  con- 
taining a  change  of  linen  swinging  over  the  shoulder. 

There  are  three  regular  lines  of  steamers  from  England  to  Nor- 
,  *    way.    One  goes  to  Christiania  on  the  southeast.   Another  goes  at  long 


1  12 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


intervals  to  Trondhjem  on  the  northwest  coast.  A  third  goes  to  Bergen 
on  the  west  coast.  We  chose  the  last  of  the^e  routes,  and  on  the 
evening  of  the  20th  of  July  we  went  on  board  the  litde  steamer  Argo 
at  Hull  on  the  northeast  coast  of  England.  When  the  sun  went  down 
we  were  out  on  the  yellow  waters  of  the  Humber,  and  the  next  morn- 
ing, we  were  far  out  of  sight  of  land  on  the  North  Sea,  bound  on  a 
journey  of  several  hundred  miles.  As  we  progressed  we  entered  the 
open  Atlantic  where  it  sweeps  almost  unbroken  between  British 
America  and  Norway.  These  are  the  waters  over  which,  a  thousand 
years  ago,  the  Northmen  sailed  to  Greenland  and  to  what  is  now 
New  England,  or  swept  down  upon  the  coasts  of  England  and  South- 
ern Europe  with  their  viking  expeditions.  Now  they  are  peculiarly 
lonely  even  for  the  sea.  Between  land  and  land  we  scarcely  saw  a 
craft  of  any  kind.  Seldom  was  even  a  sign  of  animal  life  visible,  except 
on  our  own  ship. 

The  sea,  which  in  that  region  is  often  the  scene  of  terrific  storms, 
was  as  calm  as  a  river,  and  so  continued  throughout  the  whole  journey. 
This  gave  the  passengers  a  better  opportunity  to  become  acquainted 
with  each  other.  These  vessels  are  often  crowded  to  excess,  in  the 
midsummer,  with  English  and  Scotch  people  who  are  going  to  Norway 
for  rest,  recreation  or  business.  We  had  a  full  quota  but  were  not 
crowded.  All  except  my  companion  and  myself  were  either  Britons  or 
Norwegians.  The  quantity  of  roast  beef,  mutton,  beer  and  brown  stout 
which  they  made  away  with  was  a  sight  to  behold.  But  I  must  say 
that  they  were  as  courteous  and  kind  as  could  be  wished.  Some  of 
them  were  men  of  culture  and  wide  information.  Our  pleasant  talks 
about  America,  Britain,  Norway,  the  questions  of  the  day,  and  the 
literature  of  the  past  and  present  are  among  my  most  cherished  memo- 
ries of  the  whole  journey.  I  would  like  exceedingly  to  see  some  of 
those  robust  forms  and  faces  again  in  this  world.  But  that  is  a  wish  not 
likely  to  be  gratified.  We  meet  and  pass  each  other  like  ships  at  sea, 
not  to  cross  each  other's  tracks  again  on  this  side  of  eternity. 

On  the  forenoon  of  the  third  day  we  came  in  sight  of  the  land  for 
which  we  were  bound.  The  Norwegians  have  a  myth  of  this  kind : 
They  say  that  when  the  Almighty  was  making  the  world,  the  Devil  be- 
came very  angry ;  and  in  his  wrath  he  gathered  all  the  stones  which  he 
could  find  and  threw  them  there.  They  fell  into  the  ocean  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Norway  and  made  the  west  coast  of  that  country.  I 
am  sure  that  the  appearance  of  things  is  in  favor  of  this  myth.  The 
greater  part  of  Norway  consists  of  a  connected  mountain  mass,  which 
in  the  southern  and  western  parts  constitutes  one  continuous  tract  of 
rocky  highlands  with  steep  declivities  dipping  into  the  sea,  and  only 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


here  and  there  a  tract  of  arable  land.  This  southern  and  western  coast 
must  be  well  nigh  fifteen  hundred  miles  in  length.  Along  it  are  scat- 
tered several  millions  of  islands,  varying  in  size  from  a  few  feet  to 
many  square  miles.  They  are  simply  fragments  broken  from  the 
mountain  range  of  the  mainland.  .Steamers,  when  passing  along  the 
coast,  usually  take  an  inside  course  which  is  often  fifteen  or  twenty 
miles  from  the  ocean  ;  so  that  although  storms  may  be  rolling  the 
waves  mountain  high  out  there,  they  are  traversing  waters  which  are 
as  smooth  as  a  pond.  These  islands  usually  are  barren  rocks  with  pre- 
cipitous and  even  perpendicular  sides,  sometimes  rising  to  a  height  of 
several  thousand  feet.  This  sort  oi  scenery  culminates  among  the 
Lofodens  just  within  the  Arctic  Circle.  There  the  islands  greatly  in- 
crease in  number  and  size,  and  extend  in  a  group  out  an  acute  angle 
with  the  mainland  for  about  one  hundred  and  forty  miles  to  the  south- 
west. It  was  near  the  extremity  of  them  which  jUts  the  farthest  into 
the  Atlantic  that  the  geographers  used  to  locate  the  marvelous  whirl- 
pool known  as  Maelstrom.  They  described  the  process  by  which  logs, 
boats,  bears,  men  and  even  ships  were  there  ruthlessly  swallowed.  The 
maps  even  pictured  the  scene.  It  seems  almost  a  pity  to  be  compelled 
to  say  that  the  only  foundation  for  these  stories  is  a  rapid  and  noisy, 
and  somewhat  dangerous  passage  between  two  of  the  islands.  Here, 
however,  are  other  sources  of  interest.  This  is,  and  has  been  for  seven 
centuries,  the  great  fishing-ground  of  the  Norwegians.  In  the  early 
spring  the  waters  are  darkened  with  cod ;  and  as  many  as  three  thou- 
sand small  vessels,  with  an  average  of  five  men  on  each  of  them,  come 
to  take  the  harvest  Here  was  the  home  of  Hans  Egede,  who  has  be- 
come so  widely  known  as  the  founder  of  the  mission  in  Greenla'nd. 
Here,  too,  the  island  scpnery  reaches  its  climax  of  grandeur.  Some  of 
the  islands  are  four  thousand  to  five  thousand  feet  high,  with  sides  so 
steep  that  not  even  the  snow  can  find  lodgment  on  them,  and  are  of 
the  most  fantastic  shapes.  Together  with  the  waters  which  they  em- 
bosom, they  present  scenery  the  like  of  which  is  not  to  be  beheld  else- 
where in  the  world. 

At  first  sight  it  seemed  to  be  a  land  of  desolation  which  we  were 
approaching.  Here  and  there  a  few  firs  clinging  to  the  mountains,  or 
a  little  meadow  of  an  acre  or  two  in  extent  could  be  seen.  A  rude 
house  now  and  then  is  visible,  but  mostly  built  on  the  rock  with- 
out a  speck  of  vegetation.  A  scanty  subsistence  is  obtained  for  the 
occupants  by  fishing.  Occasionally  a  clumsy,  high-proned  water  craft 
comes  into  sight,  and  by  its  appearance,  excepting  the  absence  of  oars, 
reminds  us  of  the  pictures  of  vessels  which  sometimes  illustrate  ele- 


U4 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


mentary  histories  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome.  As  we  coast  north- 
ward, with  the  telescope  and  even  with  the  naked  eye  you  can  catch 
a  glimpse  of  vast  snow  fields,  with  glaciers  which  sometimes  approach 
within  two  thousand  feet  of  the  level  of  the  sea. 

But  in  spite  of  its  desolation,  on  this  coast  three  of  the  four  prin- 
cipal cities  of  Norway — Stavanger,  Bergen  and  Trondhjem — are  lo- 
cated. They  owe  their  existence  to  the  fisheries  and  the  commerce 
of  the  sea.  It  was  not  long  until  our  steamer  made  its  first  landing 
at  Stavanger,  a  place  of  about  ten  thousand  inhabitants,  and  in  appear- 
ance a  fair  sample  of  these  cities.  The  houses  are  mostly  of  wood, — 
weather-boarded,  and  painted  red  or  white.  The  roofs  are  covered 
with  red  tiles.  The  streets  are  steep  and  often  crooked.  Some  very 
pleasant  looking  residences,  and  a  venerable  church  with  a  handsome 
yard  about  it,  stand  at  one  end  of  town.  The  Norwegians  are  passion- 
ate lovers  of  flowers.  The  pots  filled  with  various  species  of  them  in 
the  windows  of  the  better  houses  are  an  attractive  indication  of  re- 
finement. 

Having  resumed  our  voyage,  we  passed  a  monument  recently 
erected  to  the  memory  of  Harald  Haefagr,  who,  about  the  year  860, 
by  a  great  naval  victory  in  the  neighborhood,  defeated  the  petty  kings 
among  whom  Norway  hitherto  had  been  divided,  and  united  it  under 
himself  in  a  single  kingdom.  Near  midnight  we  cast  anchor  in  the 
harbor  of  Bergen.  Late  as  it  was,  there  was  a  beautiful  twilight,  so  dis- 
tinct that  it  would  have  been  easy  to  read  any  ordinary  print  without  a 
candle.  This  absence  of  any  real  night  affords  one  of  the  strangest  im- 
pressions received  by  visitors  from  more  southern  regions.  The  sun  at 
Bergen  in  midsummer  does  not  really  set  until  about  nine  o'clock,  and 
it  rises  again  at  three.  There  is  no  real  night  in  the  interval,  but  only 
a  sort  of  mellow  twilight.  The  opposite  of  this,  the  long  night  of  mid- 
winter, is  the  feature  of  their  country  concerning  which  the  Norwe- 
gians are  most  disposed  to  admit  its  inferiority.  Even  they  have  to 
acknowledge  that  it  is  gloomy. 

In  the  twilight  of  midnight  we  chaffer  with  the  boatman  who  takes 
us  ashore  for  a  few  copper  coins — skillings  —  and  are  soon  in  a  room  at 
the  hotel.  There,  one  of  the  things  which  strike  the  eye  is  the  im- 
mensely high  and  elaborately  ornamented  stove.  But  the  beds  are  still 
more  odd.  There  is  one  apiece.  Imagine  an  old  fashioned  cradle, 
minus  the  rockers,  and  you  have  a  picture  of  the  contrivance  in  its 
height  and  breadth  and  general  appearanee.  The  pillow  is  wedge- 
shaped  and  is  calculated  to  give  anybody  a  stiff  neck  who  lays  his  head 
upon  the  inclined  plane  which  it  presents.    Blessed  be  the  man  who 


AdTON  LECtURfeS. 


invented  sleep,  as  Sancho  Panzasays;  but  this  does  not  include  the 
man  who  nivented  the  Norwegian  bedstead. 

Bergen  is  an  old  town,  having  been  founded  about  eight  hundred 
years  ago;  and  it  has  been  very  prominent  in  the  past  governmental 
and  commercial  affairs  of  the  country.  It  was  out  of  the  harbor  of  this 
city,  also,  that  Hans  Egede  sailed  for  Greenland  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago.  This  was  the  birth-place  of  Holberg,  the  dramatist,  and  J 
believe  also  of  Dahl,  the  great  landscape  painter.  This  also  is  the  original 
home  of  Ole  Bull.  His  father  was  a  chemist  at  Bergen.  He  sent  his 
son  to  Christiania  to  be  educated  for  the  ministry,  but  the  heart  of  the 
young  man  was  set  on  the  violin  and  his  musical  proclivities  so  far  in- 
terfered with  his  studies  that  when,  in  an  emergency,  he  took  charge  of 
the  orchestra  in  a  theater,  matters  came  to  a  crisis  and  he  left  the  uni- 
versity for  a  southern  clime.  After  passing  through  many  hardships  he 
finally  rose  to  fame  and  fortune.  Then  he  came  back  to  Bergen  and 
brought  his  Parisian  wife  with  him  with  the  intention  of  making  that 
city  their  home,  but  he  got  into  difficulty  with  the  powers  that  be  and 
left  for  a  home  in  our  own  country. 

Bergen  has  about  35,000  inhabitants  and,  in  point  of  commerce, 
is  the  first  city  of  Norway.  Its  trade  is  various,  but  it  consists  more 
largely  in  dried  fish  and  cod  liver  oil  than  in  any  other  articles.  It  is 
said  that  in  the  harbor  in  the  early  spring  as  many  as  six  hundred 
small  vessels  may  be  seen  which  have  come  hither  with  the  fish,  peltry 
and  feathers  of  the  winter's  harvest  at  the  north.  The  export  of  stock 
fish— dried  cod — alone  is  said  to  amount  in  value  each  year  to  four  or 
five  millions  of  dollars. 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  thing  in  Bergen  is  its  two  hospitals 
for  lepers.  This  terrible  disease  prevails  to  a  considerable  extent  in 
these  northern  regions.  Its  existence  is  attributed  to  the  almost  ex- 
clusive use  of  a  diet  of  salt  fish  by  many  of  the  people.  It  may  be 
that  this  is  in  part  the  cause,  but  it  is  probable  that  the  dreadful  filth 
in  which  many  of  the  poorer  classes  live  is  at  least  an  aggravating  if  not 
a  producing  cause.  To  these  hospitals  at  Bergen  the  sufferers  are 
brought.  One  of  them  is  for  those  who  are  in  the  more  advanced 
stage  of  the  disease,  and  the  other  for  those  in  whom  it  has  only  begun 
its  ravages.  It  is  noteworthy  that  it  is  claimed  that  cures  have  been 
wrought  in  recent  years.  If  so,  this  is  indeed  a  triumph  of  medical 
skill.  Once  it  was  said  by  a  King  in  Israel,  "Am  I  God,  to  kill  and  to 
make  alive,  that  this  man  doth  send  unto  me  to  recover  a  man  of  his 
leprosy."  When  John  the  Bapdst  asked  of  Jesus  whether  he  was  the 
Christ,  he  sent  him  word  that  by  him  "the  lepers  are  cleansed."  If 
now  medical  skill  has  triumphed  over  leprosy  it  does  not  invalidate  the 


u6 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


proof  to  which  Christ  of  old  appealed  to  convince  John  of  his  deity, 
but  it  does  show  the  wonderful  advance  which  this  science  has  made 
in  modern  times. 

When  we  awoke  in  Bergen  the  sun  was  shining  brightly  into  our 
room.  This  was  a  pleasant  surprise,  for  it  is  wise  at  that  season  always 
to  expect  rain  there.  The  waters  of  the  ocean  come  up  from  the  south 
and  are  comparatively  warm  even  in  winter.  The  average  temperature 
on  the  Haidanger  and  Logue  Fjords,  which  are  not  very  far  away,  is 
about  forty-five  degrees  Fahrenheit.  But  the  mountains  clad  with  per- 
petual snow  descend  to  the  coast,  and  Bergen  is  set  down  in  the  midst 
of  them.  The  consequence  is  that  the  atmosphere  is  so  humid  that 
Bergen  weather  is  a  by-word.  Bayard  Taylor  says  that  when  a  Dutch 
skipper  meets  a  Norwegian  captain,  he  asks,  *'Is  it  still  raining  at  Ber- 
gen?" The  usual  response  is,  ^'Yes  ;  is  it  still  blowing  at  the  Texel?  ' 
The  average  of  rainy  days  is  set  down  at  two  hundred.  The  climate 
of  the  whole  of  the  west  of  Norway  is  of  the  same  character,  so  that 
an  India-rubber  overcoat  and  hat  are  an  almost  indispensable  outfit  for 
a  tour.  It  so  happened  that  this  season  there  was  a  drouth,  the  effects 
of  which  were  bitterly  felt  in  the  interior.  As  we  passed  along  the 
people  were  gathering  the  leaves  of  the  birch  to  feed  the  cattle  in  the 
winter  on  account  of  the  scanty  yield  of  hay. 

The  day  was  the  Sabbath.  The  religion  of  the  country  is,  with 
very  slight  exceptions,  Lutheran  of  the  old  and  high  type.  The  church 
is  established  by  the  government.  At  the  head  of  the  clergy  are  five 
bishops  who  are  presented  to  their  sees  by  the  King,  through  the  Min- 
isters of  Ecclesiastical  Affairs,  and  with  the  consent  of  the  Council  of 
State.  These  bishops  are  located  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  and 
have  the  oversight  of  religious  affairs  in  their  respective  dioceses.  Un- 
der them  are  the  clergy  at  large,  who  are  also  nominated  to  their  liv- 
ings by  the  government,  and  are  supported  by  tithes.  The  whole 
country  is  divided  into  341  parishes.  Inasmuch  as  the  population 
approximates  to  one  million  and  three-quarters,  it  will  be  seen  that  the 
average  of  people  in  each  is  5,000.  In  some  parts  of  the  country 
these  are  scattered  over  immense  regions.  On  the  west  coast  there  are 
churches  which  are  not  considered  to  be  neglected  if  they  are  visited 
by  the  pastor  four  times  in  a  year. 

The  first  religious  service  for  an  orthodox  Norwegian  is  baptism 
in  infancy.  Between  the  age  of  fourteen  and  sixteen  every  youth  is 
expected  to  be  confirmed,  unless  he  is  excused  on  the  ground  of  dissent 
from  the  national  church.  Confirmation,  although  in  itself  a  purely 
religious  rite,  and  supposed  merely  to  complete  the  induction  of  mem- 
bers into  the  church,  really  extends  its  influence  far  into  secular  affairs. 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


117 


Without  it  no  official  position  can  be  held  under  the  government.  The 
King  himself  must  be  a  member  in  the  Evangelical  Lutheran  Church, 
and  no  Norwegian  can  hold  the  humblest  office  unless  he  has  been  con- 
firmed. The  rite  is  regarded  as  a  passport  to  the  humblest  positions 
of  private  trust.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  in  the  newspapers  such 
an  advertisement  as  this  :  ^'A  confirmed  cook  wanted!'^  The  ceremony 
of  absolution  also  is  retained,  and  always  precedes  the  administration 
of  the  Lord's  Supper,  though  no  confession  of  sins  is  required.  When 
in  the  Supper  the  pastor  gives  the  unleavened  wafer,  which  is  substi- 
tuted for  bread,  he  says:  ''This  is  the  true  body  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ ; "  and  when  he  gives  the  wine,  he  says :  *  *  This  is  the  true  blood  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  In  other  words,  they  have  retained  the  doc- 
trine to  which  Luther  so  strongly  held,  that  the  real  body  and  blood  of 
Christ  are  in  with  and  under  the  substance  of  the  bread  and  wine 
which  still  remains. 

In  foreign  lands  it  has  always  been  my  custom  to  go  to  church  on 
Sabbath  when  practicable.  Inasmuch  as  there  was  no  English  service, 
I  made  my  way  to  the  cathedral.  The  Sabbath  in  Norway  is  regarded 
as  beginning  on  Saturday  evening  and  extending  to  the  following 
evening.  The  mass  of  the  people  go  to  church,  when  they  have  the 
opportunity,  in  the  morning.  The  cathedral  was  crowded.  Some 
were  compelled  to  stand  in  the  aisles.  The  singing  was  led  by  an  or- 
gan, and  was  greatly  prolonged.  The  tune  was  in  a  minor  key,  and 
often  had  a  singular  wailing  sound.  There  was  not  much  harmony 
among  the  voices,  but  there  was  plenty  of  volume.  In  front  of  the 
pulpit  burned  two  huge  wax  candles.  Around  the  sides  of  the  church 
were  placed  figures  of  Christ  and  of  other  sacred  persons.  The  minis- 
ter was  dressed  in  a  black  gown,  with  a  white  frilled  ruff  about  his 
neck,  such  as  were  worn  in  England  in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

The  afternoon  of  the  Sabbath  seemed  to  be  almost  universally 
employed  for  the  purpose  of  a  holiday.  There  were  a  few  stores 
which  were  open  for  business.  The  multitude  were  out  upon  the 
hills,  or  on  the  water,  or  on  the  streets.  This  is  the  custom  of  the 
country.  The  morning  of  the  Sabbath  is  given  to  worship,  and  the 
afternoon  to  pleasure.  The  clergy  follow  the  same  rule  as  that  of  the 
people.  One  thing  I  was  glad  to  observe.  The  tippling-places  were  all 
closed.  The  law  of  Norway  requires  that  they  shall  be  shut  on  Satur- 
day evening,  and  not  opened  again  until  Monday  morning.  In  that 
particular  this  far-away  land  is  in  advance  of  the  rest  of  Europe,  and 
even  of  our  own  country. 

When,  on  Monday,  I  was  making  preparation  for  our  journey 
through  the  interior,  I  was  brought  into  contact  with  some  phases  of 


Il8 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


Norwegian  character  which  are  very  striking.  A  sturdy  independence 
is  perfectly  apparent.  You  meet  with  none  of  that  crouching  subserv- 
iency of  manner  which  is  so  common  among  the  humbler  classes  in' 
many  parts  of  Europe,  and  which  is  often  so  disgusting  to  an  Amer- 
ican. The  Norwegians  in  their  whole  manner  show  that  they  consider 
that  one  man  at  least  may  be  as  good  as  another,  no  matter  by  what 
they  may  be  distinguished  as  to  worldly  position.  There  is  no  obse- 
quiousness among  them ;  but  they  are  as  polite  as  they  are  independ- 
ent. This  quality  is  carried  to  an  extent  which  is  a  constant  surprise 
to  most  foreigners.  When  a  shop  is  entered  by  a  gentleman,  he  re- 
moves his  hat  and  does  not  replace  it  until  he  is  again  on  the 
street.  When  two  gentlemen  pass  each  other  they  salute — not  with  a 
tip  of  the  hat,  but  by  a  complete  removal  of  it  from  the  head.  Even 
the  ragged  little  urchins,  whom  you  pass  on  the  roads  of  the  remote  in- 
terior, remove  the  covering  of  their  heads  to  you.  The  Norwegians, 
when  treated  with  proper  courtesy,  are  as  kind  as  they  are  polite.  Our 
landlord  spent  hours  in  traversing  Bergen  in  order  to  provide  for  the 
little  things  which  his  guests  would  need  for  their  comfort  when  trav- 
eling in  the  interior.  They  also  are  an  intelligent  people.  The  num- 
ber of  those  who  have  received  a  very  high  degree  of  education  is  not 
very  large.  But  the  proportion  of  these  is  fair;  and  rudimentary  ed- 
ucation is  almost  universal.  It  is  a  rare  thing  to  meet  a  Norwegian 
who  can  not  read  and  write. 

Their  independence  of  character  is  native  to  those  mountains  and 
seas.  The  Norwegians  never  were  slaves  or  vassals,  although  they 
have  had  their  periods  of  subjection  to  foreign  powers.  To-day  their 
government  is  one  of  the  most  democratic  in  all  Europe.  They  have 
a  king — the  same  who  rules  over  Sweden.  But  they  acknowledge  no 
subjection  to  the  stronger  country.  The  tie  which  binds  is  a  mere 
confederation,  and  the  power  of  the  king  is  hedged  on  every  side.  All 
the  males  who  are  over  twenty-five  years  of  age,  and  who  own  one 
hundred  And  fifty  dollars'  worth  of  property,  are  voters.  They  choose 
a  legislature,  which  is  able  to  pass  laws  over  the  veto  of  the  king. 
There  is  a  Council  of  State,  consisting  of  eight  Norwegians.  Only 
with  their  consent  can  he  declare  war  or  make  peace,  or  exercise  other 
executive  functions.  The  one  dark  spot  on  the  record  of  Liberty  here 
is  the  absence  of  complete  religious  toleration.  The  Lutheran  is  the 
established  church,  and  it  is  only  within  very  recent  times  that  dis- 
senters were  allowed  to  be  recognized  as  having  any  legal  existence. 
Even  now,  they  labor  under  numerous  disadvantages.  No  one  who  is  not 
a  member  of  the  established  church  can  hold  even  the  humblest  office. 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


119 


— not  even  that  of  a  policeman.  In  a  multitude  of  ways,  dissenters — of 
whom  there  are  a  few,  principally  Baptists  and  Methodists — are  sub' 
jected  to  annoyance  and  restrictions. 

The  popular  intelligence  is  due  to  the  system  of  public  instruction 
which  is  established  by  law.  It  is  made  compulsory  that  from  the 
seventh  year  of  age  until  confirmation  the  children  shall  be  sent  to 
school  a  part  of  the  time.  The  instruction  may  be  given  privately, 
but  if  not,  they  must  go  to  the  government  school.  These  last  are 
supported  partly  by  an  assessment  on  property  and  partly  by  a  fee  paid 
to  the  teacher.  One  curious  feature  of  the  system  is  an  itineracy,  by 
which,  in  the  sparsely  settled  districts,  the  teacher  goes  from  house  to 
house  to  give  instruction.  At  each  house  a  room  must  be  furnished 
for  the  purpose  and  he  must  be  properly  entertained.  By  such  means 
it  has  come  to  pass  that  there  is  less  abject  ignorance  in  that  wild,  moun- 
tainous wintry  land  than  in  almost  any  other  in  the  world. 

The  next  stage  of  our  journey  lay  up  the  fjords  toward  the  in- 
terior. These  fjords  are  arms  of  the  sea  which  reach  back  from  the  main 
ocean  into  the  heart  of  the  land.  It  will  be  borne  in  mind  that  on  the 
west  coast  the  whole  country  is  a  mountainous  range  pushed  up  against 
the  sea.  The  islands  are  merely  fragments  broken  away  from  it.  Na- 
ture in  thc-^e  convulsions,  to  which  she  has  been  subjected  in  past  ages, 
has  caused  to  be  made  in  this  range  wide  rifts,  which,  in  their  general 
course,  are  from  east  to  west,  and  which,  as  to  their  depth,  extend 
down  to  the  level  of  the  sea.  These  being  filled  with  the  waters  of  the 
ocean  constitute  the  fjords.  Now,  of  these  we  had  our  choice  of  the 
Haidanger  or  of  the  Sogue.  The  Haidanger  is  the  most  frequented 
by  visitors.  The  Norwegians  admire  it  because  of  the  green  vales 
which  are  scattered  along  it,  and  which,  to  them,  present  an  attractive 
contrast  with  the  usual  ruggedness  of  their  country.  Their  poets  sing 
about  it.  Their  wedding  parties  go  to  it  as  ours  go  to  Niagara.  In  its 
appearance  there  is  also  much  wonderful  scenery.  The  English  go 
thither  to  see  the  scenery  arid  to  hunt  and  fish.  But  the  Sogue  is  the 
longer  of  these  two  fjords.  It  also,  at  its  head,  presents  some  of  the 
most  marvelous  veins  on  earth.  Nowhere  is  there  any  more  character- 
istic Norwegian  scenery.  Besides,  it  put  us  well  on  our  way  toward 
Christiania.  In  length  the  Sogue  must  be  altogether  near  one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles,  so  we  selected  that  fjord. 

The  course  of  the  little  steamer  Fjallr  was  first  to  the  northwest 
for  several  hours  before  the  mouth  of  the  Sogue  was  reached.  This 
part  of  the  journey  differed  from  that  over  which  we  had  passed  to  the 
south,  before  reaching  Bergen,  only  as  to  the  still  more  rugged  appear- 
ance of  the  islands  and  the  extreme  narrowness  of  some  of  the  chan- 


I20 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


riels  through  which  we  made ,  our  way.  We  had  on  board,  besides 
ourselves,  a  young  Scotchman  bound  on  a  hunting  e.xpedition  in  the 
interior.  Everybody  else  was  Norwegian.  The  captain,  however,  had 
been  in  the  United  States  and  spake  good  English.  Among  our  Nor 
wegian  passengers  was  the  highest  military  officer  in  the  country,  and 
Bergen  being  a  fcjrtilied  town,  as  we  left  the  harbor  we  were  saluted 
with  gun  after  gun  until  it  might  have  been  supposed  that  we  were 
startmg  on  some  modern  viking  expedition  which  had  for  its  object  the 
the  conquest  of  England  or  the  discovery  of  America. 

it  was  about  noon  when  our  steamer  entered  the  Sogue  and 
headed  toward  the  east.  With  noon  came  dinner.  It  consisted  in  part 
of  dishes  which  were  strange  to  me,  but  as  is  the  case  on  all  the  west 
coast,  very  largely  of  salmon.  We  had  smoked  salmon;  we  had 
pickled  salmon ;  we  had  plenty  of  boiled  salmon  with  the  usual  sauce 
of  melted  butter.  It  is  a  dish  fit  to  set  before  the  king.  Cold  water 
was  to  be  had  as  a  beverage.  Norwegians,  however,  largely  use  the 
mild  beer,  which  is  brewed  in  the  country.  Wine  also  is  common, 
though,  of  course,  it  is  im])orted.  Custom  requires  that  the  passengers 
should  wail  before  taking  their  seats  until  the  captain  enters.  He 
bows  to  them  and  they  bow  to  him.  Then  he  says,  "  F^r  so  goot,'' 
(be  so  good)  and  motions  them  to  be  seated.  His  place  is  at  the  head 
of  the  table.  When  the  dinner  is  over  custom  requires  that  the  pass- 
engers should  say  to  the  captain  as  they  rise,  ''Tak  for  fuead''  (thanks 
for  meat),  and  to  bow  to  him  and  to  each  other.  Of  course  where 
there  is  much  foreign  travel  these  customs  are  not  fully  observed : 
still,  as  far  as  practicable,  they  are  not  ignored. 

The  afternoon  and  night  were  spent  in  ascending  the  Sogue.  The 
mountains  in  its  lower  course  come  down  so  abruptly  to  the  waters  that 
little  vegetation  is  visible.  Savage  precipices  of  solid  rock  rise  on  every 
side,  destitute  almost  entirely  of  trees  unless  it  be  here  and  there  a  few 
firs,  and  tipped  with  perpetual  snow.  Few  people  live  along  the  fjord. 
Only  at  long  intervals  could  a  house  be  seen  amid  a  speck  of  green. 
The  waters  of  the  fjord  are  constantly  broken  by  promontories  and 
islands.  Our  young  Scotch  friend  joined  with  us  in  puzzling  ourselves 
often  to  know  whither  the  way  of  the  steamer  led.  Sometimes  it 
would  seem  to  be  impossible  that  there  was  any  exit,  but  suddenly  we 
would  turn  a  corner  and  be  out  on  a  lake  which  would  spread  itself  in 
every  direction. 

The  little  village  of  Laerdalsoren,  where  we  disembarked,  owes 
its  existence  to  the  fact  that  it  is  the  point  at  which  one  of  the  two 
wagon  roads  across  Norway  strike  the  navigable  waters  of  the  west.  It 
contains,  perhaps^  a  couple  of  hun.dred  inhabitants,  which  is.  a  large 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


121 


number  to  be  collected  together  in  that  region.  There  are  in  it  a  half- 
dozen  neat  looking  little  weather-boarded  houses,  painted  white.  The 
remainder  of  the  dwellings  are  miserable  log  cabins,  scattered,  without 
any  regularity  of  streets.  L  am  bound  to  say  that  in  them  and  outside 
of  them  there  were  signs  of  filthiness  which  was  appalling.  Bayard 
Taylor  pronounces  the  very  poor  people  in  the  interior  of  Norway  the 
dirtiest  in  all  Europe  as  to  their  mode  of  living.  My  own  observation 
is  quite  in  harmony  with  this  opinion.  For  their  poverty  they  can  not 
be  blamed,  but  for  their  filthiness  there  is  no  excuse.  The  only  miti- 
gation which  the  traveler  finds  is  here  and  there  a  little  hotel  or  station, 
or  private  house,  which  is  neat  and  clean,  and  which,  by  its  contrast,  is 
like  an  oasis  with  wells  and  palm  trees  in  the  midst  of  a  desert. 

About  Laerdalsoren  there  is  a  narrow  valley  consisting  of  a  few  acres 
of  tillable  land  shut  in  by  savage  mountains.  The  products  are  oats, 
barley,  potatoes  and  grass.  It  was  harvest  when  we  were  there,  and 
men  and  women  were  busy  in  the  little  fields.  The  sun  is  not  hot  and 
the  air  is  humid,  and,  as  a  consequence,  it  is  not  easy  to  dry  the  hay 
or  the  grain.  In  order  to  assist  the  process  little  frameworks  of  poles, 
like  the  panels  of  fence,  are  set  up  in  the  fields,  and  the  grass  is  hung 
loosely  over  them.  Stakes  are  driven  into  the  ground  and  about  them 
the  barley  and  oats  are  tied  and  so  cured  by  the  sun.  As  I  watched 
the  harvesting  and  saw  the  difficulty  with  which  a  scanty  subsistence 
was  wrung  from  the  soil,  I  wondered  that  the  people  did  not,  in  a 
body,  forsake  such  a  country  and  seek  a  new  home  in  some  region 
of  the  world  where  nature  repays  human  labor  with  a  more  bountiful 
hand.  Yet  the  Norwegians  have  an  intense  love  for  these  fjords  and 
mountains  and  narrow  valleys.  Multitudes  have  emigrated  to  the 
United  States  and  could  not  be  persuaded  to  return  to  their  old  homes; 
but  1  have  also  met  there  intelligent  men  who  have  visited  America 
and  various  other  parts  of  the  world,  and  yet  have  come  back  because  they 
preferred  to  spend  their  lives  in  that  lonely  and  desolate  land. 

From  Laerdalsoren  we  made  an  excursion  up  the  arms  into  which 
the  Sogue  divides  itself  at  its  head.  A  little  steamer  in  the  season  for 
travel  plies  backward  and  forward*  That  day  I  shall  never  forget,  for 
it  enabled  me  to  see  some  of  the  most  stupendous  scenery  in  all  the 
wide  world.  As  you  proceed  the  mountains  become  higher  and  higher, 
and  their  sides  are  constantly  nearer  to  an  absolute  perpendicular.  By 
and  by,  it  is  not  often  that  a  house  can  find  a  place  where  it  can  cling 
to  the  rocks.  Somewhere  here  is  the  Valley  of  V'ettie  Giel.  It  is  so 
inaccessible  that  the  path  which  leads  to  it  is  called  the  Dead  Man's 
Ride,"  because,  when  any  of  the  inhabitants  die,  the  corpse  can  not 
be  carried  along  the  narrow  paths  by  which  it  must  be  taken  to  the 


t22 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


place  of  burial.  Instead  of  this  the  dead  body  is  mounted  on  the  back 
of  one  of  the  Httle  ponies  of  the  country,  the  legs  are  tied  under  the 
horse's  belly  and  so  the  funeral  is  accomplished.  In  some  places  there 
is  not  even  a  path  for  a  horse.  When  one  of  the  inhabitants  die  they 
have  to  lower  the  dead  body  by  means  of  ropes.  I  have  in  that  region 
seen  wires  stretched  from  the  sides  of  the  mountains  to  some  level  spot 
below,  and  I  discovered,  after  a  good  deal  of  puzzling,  that  by  them 
the  grass  was  brought  from  the  mountain  sides.  The  bundles  are  fast- 
ened upon  them  and  then  slid  to  the  bottom. 

But  we  come  at  length  to  a  point  where  human  habitations  are  no 
longer  possible.  The  fjord,  in  the  direction  in  which  we  are  going, 
separates  into  two  branches — the  Aurlands  and  the  Noereus.  At  the 
point  of  division,  and  in  the  angle  between  them,  springs  up  a  single 
rocky  buttress  a  thousand  feet  high.  We  turn  up  the  Noereus.  Higher 
and  higher  rise  the  mountains,  and  become,  if  possible,  nearer  perpen- 
dicular, not  on  one  side  alone  but  upon  both,  and  in  an  unbroken 
chain  in  either  direction.  Here  and  there  only  is  a  lonely  fir  or  a  tuft 
of  grass.  On  the  heights  are  vast  fields  of  snow.  Immense  glaciers 
for  a  moment  reveal  themselves  in  the  distance.  Now  we  reach  a  point 
where  the  scene  is  such  that  no  words  can  give  any  conception  ot  its  aw- 
ful grandeur.  On  either  side  the  bare  mountains  of  solid  gray  rock  rise 
to  a  height  of  perhaps  five  thousand  feet.  We  turn  a  slight  bend  and  there 
is  the  Keel  Foss,  a  water-fall,  which,  in  three  leaps,  comes  down  two 
thousand  feet.  It  is  not  a  large  stream,  but  it  is  one  of  the  marvels  of 
earth  because  of  its  height  and  the  beauty  of  its  descent. 

These  fosses,  or  water-falls,  are  among  the  greatest  attractions  of 
Norwegian  scenery.  All  along  the  Noereus  the  snows  melt  on  the 
plateaus  above  and  spill  themselves  over  the  precipices  into  the  fjord 
below.  The  Voring  Foss,  in  the  region  of  the  Haidanger,  is  one  of 
the  grandest  on  earth.  A  vast  volume  of  water  descends  in  a  sheet  by 
a  single  leap  of  eight  hundred  or  nine  hundred  feet.  Bayard  Taylor 
has  pronounced  the  Rinkan  Foss.  which  is  half  way  across  the  country 
between  the  Haidanger  and  Christiania,  the  most  beautiful  cataract  in 
the  world.  % 

We  landed  at  Gudvaugen,  where  there  is  a  neat  little  hotel,  and 
where,  among  other  delicacies,  we  had  the  wild  red  strawberries,  which 
are  found  here  just  as  among  the  Alps.  We  wandered  up  the  valley 
known  as  the  Noerdal — one  of  the  most  famous  in  Europe.  It  is  what 
wc  would  call  a  canyon,  a  continuation  of  the  rift  which  below  consti- 
tutes the  fjord.  The  sides  rise  two  thousand  feet.  Beautiful  cascades 
leap  down  these  precipices  for  hundreds  of  feet.  Below  is  space 
enough  for  a  foaming  stream  and  a  road,  strewn,  however,  with  vast 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


123 


pieces  of  rocks.  This  canyon  continues  for  miles,  and  at  last,  by  a 
triumph  of  engineering,  the  road  overhanging  fearful  precipices,  leads 
up  to  the  plateau  above. 

The  only  drawback  to  this  stupendous  scenery  is  its  savageness 
and  solitude.  These  at  times  become  oppressive.  One  misses  the 
softness  which  steals  over  the  most  rugged  peaks  and  precipices  of 
Switzerland.  Savage,  awful,  overwhelming  is  the  prospect.  And  oh, 
how  lonely  !  Norway  is  a  land  of  silence.  Even  the  people  seldom 
speak  loud.  The  steamers  on  the  fjords  are  landed  almost  without  a 
word.  It  would  break  one  of  our  Western  captain's  heart  to  see  the 
thing  done  so  quietly.  And  among  the  mountains  there  is  the  stillness 
of  death.  I  wonder  that  some  of  the  people  do  not  become  insane. 
But  in  spite  of  all  this,  earth  does  not  afford  scenery  more  worthy  of  a 
visit. 

The  third  stage  of  our  journey  was  from  the  head  of  the  Sogue 
at  LaerdaLsoren  to  lake  Mjosen,  on  the  east  of  Norway — a  distance  of 
about  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles.  The  road  leads  across  the 
mountains — one  day  up  the  western  slope,  another  to  traverse  the 
broad  plateau  on  the  top,  to  which  the  name  of  Fille  Fjeld  is  applied, 
and  another  to  descend  the  eastern  declivity.  Between  the  two  extrem- 
ities which  I  'have  mentioned  there  is  now  a  highway,  which,  with  the 
exception  of  the  unavoidable  up  and  down  grade,  has  not  its  superior 
in  all  Europe,  in  view  of  the  region  through  which  it  passes,  it  is  a 
constant  marvel.  Along  its  whole  length  there  is  not  a  village ;  and 
for  the  greater  part  of  it.  only  at  long  intervals  can  a  human  hal)itation 
be  seen.  Often  the  bed  has  to  be  hewn  out  of  the  solid  rock  of  the 
mountains.  For  long  distances  the  whole  surface  of  the  earth  is  such 
a  mass  of  rock  that  the  telegraph  poles  are  fastened  in  a  framework  of 
masonry,  because  they  could  not  be  inserted  in  the  ground.  The  road 
was  built  by  the  government,  and  was  designed  to  connect  the  West 
with  the  capitol ;  very  much  as  the  great  National  Road  of  our  country 
was  intended  to  unite  our  West  with  the  Eastern  cities,  and  especially 
with  Washington.  It  is  free  from  toll.  Rut  marvelous  as  is  this  high- 
way, it  is  about  to  be  eclipsed  by  a  railway  along  the  same  general 
route.  Already  a  good  deal  of  the  work  has  been  done.  The  cost 
will  be  enormous;  but  it  is  an  enterprise  of  the  government,  and  will 
be  carried  to  completion. 

Over  this  road,  no  line  of  public  conveyances  runs.  This  is  true 
also  of  all  the  other  roads  of  the  country.  But  the  government  has 
made  provision  of  another  sort  for  travelers.  Certain  of  the  little 
mountain  farm-houses  along  the  route  are  designated  as  siations.  They 
are  separated  from  each  other  by  distances  varying  from  six  to  twelve 


124 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


miles,  according  to  circumstances.  Each  of  these  must  be  provided 
with  a  few  carioles  and  horses.  When  the  traveler  enters  one  of  them 
he  finds  a  book  in  which  he  writes  his  name,  and  the  number  of  horses 
and  carioles  which  he  needs,  and  the  time  of  his  departure.  In  the 
same  book  also  he  can  enter  complaint,  if  he  chooses,  for  any  fault  in 
his  treatment  during  the  previous  stage  of  his  journey;  and  it  is  sup- 
posed that  it  will  be  duly  considered  by  the  officials.  If  the  station  is 
designated  as  fast^  he  can  not  be  detained  longer  than  half  an  hour, 
unless  all  the  horses  and  carioles  are  on  the  road.  Then  he  must  wait 
until  they  return,  and  must  give  half  an  hour  for  rest.  At  a  slow 
station,  the  limit  of  the  law  allows  him  to  be  detained  three  hours.  It 
will  be  seen  that  to  get  started  from  one  of  these  stations  is  at  best  a 
tardy  process.  But  there  is  not  much  use  to  try  to  hurry  the  men. 
They  will  be  ready  strax — immediately ;  but  that  may  mean  not  less 
than  half  an  hour.  After  the  preparation  is  completed,  you  mount  the 
cariole.  It  is  a  two-wheeled  conveyance,  drawn  by  one  horse,  and 
liolds  one  person.  The  fore  part  of  it  stretches  out  upon  the  shafts 
and  attempts  to  furnish  room  for  your  legs  in  that  direction.  If  you 
do  not  like  to  have  them  cramped,  you  can  allow  them  to  hang  over 
the  side.  The  back  part  of  the  cariole  contains  a  single  seat,  and  is 
shaped  very  much  like  the  end  of  a  canoe.  You  drive  yourself.  There 
is  a  little  board  behind  where  you  can  fasten  a  vahse,  and  on  it  the 
boy  who  goes  with  you  to  bring  back  the  horse  sits  or  stands.  You 
■drive  to  the  next  station,  and  there  pay  the  boy  for  the  conveyance ; 
and  he,  having  first  shaken  hands  with  you,  goes  back  with  it  to  the 
place  from  which  it  came.  At  each  station  the  same  process  which  I 
have  described  has  to  be  repeated.  When  there  are  many  travelers,  a 
little  cart  is  called  into  use  in  order  to  supplement  the  deficiency  in 
carioles. 

It  was  our  good  fortune  to  be  able  to  hire  a  small  Norwegian  car- 
riage, which  had  been  sent  out  to  meet  some  person  who  had  failed  to 
come.  Our  driver  was  a  good-natured  Norwegian,  whose  English 
vocabulary  consisted  of  the  words  stoppen  a  leetle.  Stop  he  did, 
whenever  he  could  find  a  countryman  who  would  halt  to  listen 
to  him.  The  horses  were  rested  at  every  station  ;  but  whenever  he 
came  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  he  was  sure  to  make  up  the  delay.  The 
horses  were  small  and  hardy.  The  carriage  was  light.  Down  we  would 
rush  at  a  speed  which  was  astonishing  to  us,  but  which  seemed  to  be 
hugely  enjoyed  by  both  the  driver  and  his  team. 

On  the  way  the  first  day  we  passed  the  old  Borgund  church — an 
exceedingly  quaint  structure,  said  to  have  been  erected  in  th.e  begin- 
ning of  the  Eleventh  Century.    It  is  constructed  of  the  red  Norwegian 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


pine,  and  is  thickly  coated  with  tar.  In  appearance,  it  is  exceedingly 
grotesque — not  unlike  a  Chinese  pagoda.  On  the  roof  are  horns, 
which  are  said  to  be  traces  of  the  old  mythology,  which  was  just  disap- 
pearing when  this  church  was  built. 

Toward  the  top  of  the  mountain,  occasionally  a  saeter  may  be 
seen.  In  the  summer  the  cattle  are  driven  up  the  mountains,  as  the 
snow  melts  and  the  grass  grows.  The  population  in  part  goes  with 
them,  to  care  for  them  and  to  make  the  butter  and  cheese.  In  the 
evenings  the  cattle,  by  the  sound  of  a  long  horn,  are  collected  and 
driven  into  an  enclosure,  where  they  may  be  safe  for  the  night.  Con- 
nected with  this  enclosure  is  a  rude  structure  in  which  the  people  tem- 
porarily live,  and  where  the  milk  is  manufactured  into  its  products.  I 
have  read  some  very  romantic  descriptions  of  the  scenes  to  be  wit- 
nessed at  these  mountain  abodes  in  summer,  particularly  as  beheld  on 
a  Saturday  evening,  when  the  young  men  come  to  dance  with  the 
young  maidens.  I  can  only  say  that  so  far  as  I  observed  them,  they 
exhibited  an  appalling  want  of  neatness.  If  cleanliness  there  is  next 
to  godliness,  I  am  afraid  that  godliness  is  in  a  very  low  condition. 
There  was  not  even  any  music  in  the  cow-bells.  The  sweetest  sounds 
which  one  can  hear  is  the  tinkling  of  the  many-voiced  bells  on  the 
necks  of  the  cows  among  the  Alps.  Here  they  give  forth  nothing  but 
a  dull  sound.  But  the  men  and  women  who  spend  the  summer  in  these 
lonely  solitudes  ought  not  to  be  too  swiftly  condemned.  They  deserve 
our  sympathy.  The  wonder  is  that  they  are  willing  so  long  to  exile 
themselves  for  the  small  remuneration  which  they  receive. 

There  are  no  hotels  on  this  road;  and  the  stations  furnish  the 
best  accommodations  which  can  be  had.  The  food  is  always  plain, 
and  not  always  the  best.  As  soon  as  the  fjords  are  left  behind,  the 
salmon  ceases ;  though  brook  trout  can  sometimes  be  had.  Commonly, 
the  only  meat  is  venison,  which  has  been  killed  in  the  season  and 
potted  for  use  when  foreign  travel  sets  in.  It  occasionally  is  a  little 
high  in  its  flavor,  but  it  is  tender,  and  not  unpleasant  to  the  taste. 
Eggs  can  nearly  always  be  obtained.  Black  Norwegian  cheese  is 
usually  on  the  table,  but  it  is  so  wretchedly  strong  that  the  natives 
themselves  cut  in  very  thin  sHces  and  eat  it  on  their  bread.  White 
bread  can  be  had  along  the  great  highway,  but  with  it  is  always  placed 
before  you  the  black  bread,  which  is  made  largely  of  oat  meal,  rolled 
into  sheets  and  baked  at  long  intervals.  Tea  and  coffee  are  always 
available.  The  majority  of  the  stations  are  clean.  Very  few  of  them 
are  neat.  Some  of  them  compel  you  to  hold  your  nose  when  you 
enter.  Usually  they  consist  of  one  or  more  low  log  or  weather- 
boarded  houses,  with  numerous  rambling  out-buildings,  among  which 


126 


ACTOK  LEClURES. 


carts  and  carioles  are  strewn  in  delightful  confusion.  Sometimes  yolf 
will  see  nailed  up  the  skins  of  bears  and  other  wild  animals,  which  re- 
mind the  traveler  that  there  are  seasons  of  the  year  when  he  would 
need  to  be  properl}'  armed  to  })ass  through  portions  of  this  region  in 
perfect  safety.  In  summer  there  is  no  danger.  Sometimes  you  will 
see  a  pair  of  leather  breeches,  which,  by  tlie  accumulated  filth  of 
years,  convince  you  that  they  must  have  come  down  from  other  gen- 
erations. But  the  people  are  always  kind,  if  you  treat  them  properly. 
Often  they  will  astonish  you  by  speaking  English.  Prices  also  are 
marvelousl}-  low.  A  dollar  and  a  half  a  day  will  cover  all  expenses, 
except  your  hire  for  conveyance,  which  is  also  cheap. 

The  scenery  on  the  Fille  Fjeld  is  seldom  striking  when  compared 
with  that  of  the  fjords.  On  the  top  of  the  mountains  there  are  often 
considerable  areas  of  comparatively  level  ground,  rarely,  however, 
under  cultivation.  Usually  a  line  of  rugged  hills  is  near  at  hand  on 
either  side  of  the  road.  There  are  numerous  small  lakes — some  of 
them  so  deep  that  no  bottom  has  ever  been  found  by  sounding.  I  re- 
member only  one  view  which  was  really  very  grand.  It  is  at  the  point 
where  the  top  of  the  mountain  in  the  ascent  from  the  west  is  fairly 
reached.  It  is  between  the  sixty-first  and  sixty-second  degree  of  north 
latitude,  and  about  four  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  A 
little  companv  of  us.  from  different  parts  of  the  globe,  who  happened 
to  be  thrown  together  to  spend  the  night  at  the  lonely  station,  climbed 
the  mountain — Skaggenosen — close  at  hand,  to  behold  the  setting  sun. 
It  was  a  steep  ascent  of  another  thousand  feet.  By  hard  toil  we  reached 
the  desired  point.  About  us  the  ground  was  pardy  covered  with  snow 
and  partly  with  the  luxuriant  growth  of  moss  on  which  the  reindeer 
feed  in  winter.  Trees  there  were  none.  A  sprinkling  of  flowers  was 
visible,  among  them  a  delicate  forget-me-not.  A  little  further  away 
were  some  miniature  lakes.  Beyond,  in  the  distance,  was  the  great 
Joteen  Mountain  and  its  companions — one  of  them  lifting  its  head 
more  than  eight  thousand  feet  abo\  e  the  level  of  the  sea  and  all  of 
them  clothed  with  perpetual  snow.  It  was  about  nine  o'clock.  As  we 
looked  the  sun  descended  behind  those  distant  mountains,  itself  a 
glorious  sight.  But  for  that  occasion  he  added  other  splendors. 
As  he  went  down  he  lit  those  snow-clad  peaks  with  the  real  Alpine 
glow.  It  burned  as  in  the  fire.  It  was  yellow  like  gold.  It  changed 
from  hue  to  hue.  I  saw  that  ineffable  sight  first  from  the  top.  of  Righi 
in  Switzerland.  1  saw  it  last  frqm  Skaggenosen  in  Norway.  Never 
shall  I  forget  either  view.  As  soon  as  those  splendors  faded  away  we 
were  glad,  in  all  haste,  to  escape  from  the  w^intry  winds  which  were 
blowing  on  those  heights. 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


t27 


On  the  eastern  slope  of  the  mountain  the  rocky  precipices  and 
snowy  peaks  of  the  west  gradually  are  left  behind.  Vast  forests  of 
pine  and  fir,  among  which  the  winds  make  mournful  music,  clothe  the 
hills  and  valleys.  The  stations  improve.  At  last,  as  you  approach  the 
Mjosen,  many  a  pleasant  landscape  variagated  with  woods  and  fields 
and  comfortable  dwellings  meets  the  eye. 

The  Sabbath  we  spent  at  a  little  village  called  Gjorik,  by  the 
shores  of  the  Mjosen.  'Thence  the  next  stage  of  our  journey  was 
partly  by  steamer  over  the  lake,  and  partly  by  rail,  onward  toChristiania. 
The  Mjosen  is  a  handsome  sheet  of  water,  about  fifty  miles  in  length, 
and  in  breadth  from  two  to  twelve  miles.  The  shores  slope  gradually 
down  to  the  water,  and  are  studded  with  comfortable  looking  farm 
houses,  mostly  painted  a  reddish  color.  Occasionally  a  bit  of  woods 
comes  down  to  the  water.  At  Eidsvold  one  of  the  four  little  railroads 
of  the  country  begins.  The  cars  are  after  the  usual  European  pattern 
— separated  into  apartments  and  marked  for  different  classes.  In  one 
point  they  excel.  Ours  was  a  fast  train.  From  Eidsvold  to  Christiania 
the  distance  is  about  forty  miles,  and  we  made  it  in  three  hours.  But, 
after  a  trip  over  the  North  Sea,  up  the  fjords  of  Norway,  across  the  i 
mountains  and  down  the  lake,  it  was  a  joy  to  be  in  any  kind  of  a  rail- 
way car,  and  to  travel  even  at  such  comparatively  slow  speed.  There 
was  something  home-like  about  it.  So  we  jogged  along,  among  hills, 
sometimes  rugged  and  sometimes  gently  rolling,  until  toward  evening, 
when  we  disembarked  at  the  capital. 

Christiania  is  a  city  of  seventy  thousand  people.  It  has  some  fine 
buildings  and  streets.  The  scenery  has  a  mixture  of  both  land  and 
water.  It  is  the  capital  of  the  country,  the  seat  of  the  university,  and 
a  gr^at  commercial  center.  I  would  be  glad  to  speak  at  length  of  it, 
and  then  of  a  journey  onward  to  Stockholm,  and  thence  to  Copenha- 
gen and  Hamburg.  But,  for  the  present,  I  shall  bid  you  a  kindly 
adieu. 


THE  MICROSCOPE 


ITS  REVELATIONS.  WITH  SOME  OF  THEIR  BEAR- 
INGS UPON  CHRISTIAN  EVIDENCES. 


Lecture  delivered  at  Acton  Camp  Meeting,  August  5,  A.  D.  1881,  by 
HON.    THOMAS  B.    REDDING,    PH.    D. ,    OF   NEWCASTLE,  INDIANA. 


There  is  that  in  man  that  seeks  to  know  the  unknown ;  to  extend 
the  boundaries  of  his  knowledge.  To  do  this  he  climbs  mountains 
and  wanders  in  caves  and  darkness ;  travels  in  far  and  distant  lands ; 
endures  suffering,  perils,  conflicts,  death  itself  ;  he  travels  thousands  of 
miles  amid  Arctic  snows  or  over  burning  sands,  among  savage  and 
wild  beasts  and  men,  yet,  with  all  his  care,  labor  and  suffering,  he  sees 
but  a  point  here  and  there.  In  a  gallon  of  water,  taken  from  some 
ditch  or  pond  near  his  own  door  yard,  are  more  unseen  living  beings 
— beings  full  of  life,  of  marvelous  structure,  moving,  acting,  sentient 
beings — than  he  sees  in  all  his  weary  travels ;  beings  that  may  be 
studied  as  no  other  beings  can.  Many  are  transparent,  and  we  can  see 
through  and  through  them  ;  see  the  blood  coursing  through  its  channels; 
the  heart  pulsating ;  the  digestive  organs  working ;  co-ordinated  life 
performing  its  varied  functions.  By  their  study  we  attain  new  ideas  of 
life ;  of  vital  power ;  of  that  wonderful  force  or  energy  called  life. 
And  there,  too,  hidden  away  from  the  unaided  human  eye,  we  shall 
find  plants  that  move  and  travel  from  place  to  place  ;  that  swim  in  the 
water,  and  divide  and  multiply  with  great  rapidity,  till  we  shall  become 
confused  and  can  not  tell  where  plant  life  ends  and  animal  life  begins. 

So  in  the  air  we  breathe,  the  earth  we  live  upon,  in  our  houses, 
upon  every  plant,  flower  and  blade  of  grass,  we  shall  find  unnumbered 
billions  of  animated  beings  which  the  unaided  mortal  eye  has  never 
seen. 

Above  us,  too,  is  a  universe  of  sublime  existences;  suns,  planets, 

9 


130 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


Stars,  comets,  systems  of  suns  and  worlds  innumerable  as  the  sands  of 
the  seas. 

These  are  the  things  to  be  seen  and  studied  when  looking  upon 
this  wonderful  home  of  ours  that  God  has  given  us. 

The  Psalmist  says :  "  Come  and  see  the  works  of  God."  Oh  ! 
what  a  wondrous,  glorious  vision  hath  our  God  prepared  for  us. 

*'Sing  forth  the  honor  of  His  name;  make  his  praise  glorious. 
Say  unto  God,  how  terrible  art  Thou  in  Thy  works ;  through  the  great- 
ness of  Thy  power  shall  Thine  enemies  submit  themselves  unto  Thee. 
All  the  earth  shall  worship  Thee  and  shall  sing  unto  Thee." — Psalm 
Ixvi. 

Man  is  an  atom  placed  between  two  infinites — the  infinitely  great 
and  the  infinitely  small.  He  knows  not,  he  can  not,  will  not,  know 
the  beginning  nor  the  end.  They  reach  back  and"  forward  into  eternity. 
He  knows  but  little  of  that  within  these  extremes.  With  the  aid  of  the 
telescope  he  extends  his  vision  far  into  the  realms  of  space  and  beholds 
a  universe  of  worlds  and  systems  of  worlds,  but  they  remain  far,  very 
far,  away.  With  the  most  powerful  telescope  that  has  been  made,  or 
that  can  be  used,  he  brings  the  moon,  our  nearest  neighbor,  to  within 
a  little  less  than  240  miles  arid  the  sun  within  about  1,000  miles.  What 
can  be  seen  at  a  distance  of  240  miles,  with  unaided  eyes,  with  such  a 
telescope,  we  can  see  upon  the  moon.  The  largest  building  upon 
earth  could  not,  probably,  be  seen  at  such  a  distr.nce;  hence,  with 
the  telescope,  we  only  see  aggregations  of  matter  of  large  extent. 

If  we  come  nearer  home  and  examine  the  things  with  which  we 
come  in  daily  contact,  things  that  we  can  handle,  dissect  and  tear  to 
pieces,  still  the  unaided  eye  sees  only  aggregations  of  matter ;  particles 
of  matter  made  up  of  vast  numbers  of  smaller  particles.  , 

If  I  now  take  that  wonderful  instrument,  the  microscope,  with  its 
marvelous  range  of  magnifying  powers,  and  examine  thin  and  delicate 
sections  of  the  tissues,  of  man,  animals  and  plants,  still,  I  shall  find 
aggregations  of  matter,  even  though  I  should  magnify  the  object 
10,000  diameters  (which  would  make  men  more  than  eleven  miles  in 
height  and  proportionately  broad).  The  smallest  point  that  can  be  seen 
with  such  a  power  is  still  made  up  of  many  smaller  particles.  We  can 
not,  never  have,  and  probably  never  will,  get  down  to  the  simple  ele- 
mentary unit  entering  into  the  composition  of  these  things.  We  have 
approached  it,  it  may  be  very  nearly,  still  there  remains  a  chasm  we 
can  not  pass,  a  step  we  can  not  take,  but  what  we  can  see  and  learn  is 
well  worth  the  seeing  and  learning.  The  microscope  brings  us  face  to 
face  with  life,  with  living  matter,  with  forces  and  energies,  with  God, 
as  no  other  instrument  can  or  does. 


ActON  LECTURES. 

Through  its  revelations  we  are  led  to  the  conclusion,  that  physical 
and  chemical  laws  act  specially  in  the  plane  of  elementary,  inorganic 
units,  and  in  the  plane  of  compounds;  vital  laws  in  the  plane  of  organ- 
ization ;  sentient  laws  in  the  plane  of  animal  life  ;  mental,  moral  and 
spiritual  forces  in  the  plane  of  man  and  soul.  The  microscope  enables 
us  to  study  the  manifestations  and  properties  of  matter  in  many  o{  their 
relations.  It  is  the  only  instrument  that  reveals  the  great  facts  of 
biology,  and  makes  us  acquainted  with  living  matter,  and  enables  us 
to  differentiate  it  from  formed,  non-living  matter. 

The  microscope  has  its  place  in  all  the  sciences.  Many  can  be 
but  very  imperfectly  studied  without  it;  all  can  be  better  studied  with 
its  aid. 

A  mere  catalogue  of  the  wonders  it  has  revealed,  the  facts  it  has 
made  known,  would  fill  many  volumes.  Take  away  what  has  been 
made  known  by  the  microscope  of  anatomy,  disease  and  biology,  and 
the  profession  of  medicine  would  be  relegated  back  to  where  it  stood 
in  the  dark  ages.  It  is  indispensable  to  the  physician  who  desires  to 
be  well  and  thoroughly  equipped  for  his  work.  By  studying  charts, 
descriptions  and  pictures  of  what  others  have  seen,  he  might  get  along 
without  entering  the  dissecting  room,  but  he  would  be  very  inade- 
quately prepared  for  his  work.  So  he  may  get  along  without  using  the 
microscope  himself,  but  no  better  than  in  the  other  case.  He  simply, 
studies  the  description  of  what  others  have  seen.  When  he  looks  for 
himself  he  will  know  much  more  and  knoiv  it  ?nuch  better. 

The  chemist,  the  geologist,  the  botanist,  the  zoologist,  the  biologist, 
the  student,  the  merchant,  all  men,  need  to  use  the  information  it 
brings  to  us.  To-day,  all  over  our  land,  our  orchards  are  being  deso- 
lated by  a  living  being  that  only  the  highest  powers  of  the  microscope 
can  make  known  to  us,  and  if  any  remedy  can  or  ever  shall  be  discov- 
ered, it  will  be  made  known  through  the  powers  of  this  instrument. 

I  can  not,  on  this  occasion,  go  into  any  detailed  statement  of  its 
revelations  in  these  various  fields,  but  shall  endeavor,  in  the  short  time 
allotted  to  me,  to  describe  a  few  of  the  revelations  the  microscope 
gives  us  in  relation  to  life,  and  the  evolution  of  life  in  individuals  from 
pre-existing  bioplasm,  or  living  matter.  This  field  alone  furnishes 
material  for  many  lectures. 

The  microscope  has  revealed  to  us  a  wonderful  builder  in  this  world 
- — a  thing  that  has  neither  organs,  nor  structure,  yet  is  the  builder  of  all 
organs  and  of  all  o?ganic  structures — a  builder  that,  on  the  one  hand, 
erects  the  most  delicate  and  minute  plant,  and  all  the  myriad  forms  of 
plant  life  up  to  the  mighty  oak  of  the  forest;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  smallest  animalcule  that  floats  in  water  or  air,  and  all  the  thousands 


ACtON  LECTURES. 


of  animal  existences,  and  man  himself.  Without  this  builder's  aid,  not 
a  particle  of  matter  can  enter  into  the  structure  of  plant,  or  animal,  as 
a  part  thereof.  This  builder  is  living  7natter^  variously  called  bioplasm, 
protoplasm^  etc. 

All  living  existences,  whether  plants,  animals,  or  men,  are  the 
product  of  previously  existing  living  matter.  Each,  and  every  one  of 
them,  commences  existence  in  a  particle  of  living  matter  so  small  as  to 
be  utterly  invisible  to  the  unaided  eye.  From  this  minute  germ,  ova, 
or  particle,  as  a  center  of  growth  and  development,  is  evolved  the  pecu- 
liar existence  from  which  it  descended,  be  it  plant,  animal,  or  man. 

This  living  matter,  that  has  such  marvelous  powers,  is  a  viscid, 
transparent,  colorless,  semi-fluid,  structureless  substance,  capable  of 
movmg  in  all  directions  of  itself,  when  unconfined ;  of  taking  up 
nutrient  matter  and  converting  it  instantaneously  into  matter  like  itself, 
and  from  itself,  and  the  matter  thus  vitalized  by  itself,  of  weaving  all 
the  tissues,  cells,  and  structures  of  all  organisms. 

No  examination  which  we  can  make,  whether  it  be  physical,  chem- 
ical or  optical,  can  show  us  any  differences  in  the  appearance,  structure, 
or  constitution  of  the  living  matter  that  builds  the  plant  from  that 
which  builds  any  other  plant,  or  animal,  or  man.  Vet  we  find  that 
this  builder  never  makes  any  mistakes ;  that  the  germ  of  the  oak  always 
produces  the  oak ;  that  the  germ  of  the  grain  of  corn  always  produces 
corn;  that  the  germ  of  the  serpent  always  produces  the  serpent;  that 
the  germ  of  the  horse  always  produces  the  horse,  and  that  the  germ  of 
man  always  produces  man.  Having  said  this  much  of  this  master 
builder,  to  which  all  living  existences  owe  their  structure,  let  us  take  a 
few  simple  examples  of  plant  and  animal  life  and  analyze  them,  as  we  may 
do,  with  the  aid  of  the  microscope,  and  see  how  they  are  evolved  from 
this  germ,  or  particle  of  living  matter,  so  small  yet  so  full  of  potencies. 

In  every  form  of  life  we  find  design,  plan,  purpose,  function,  and 
absolute,  persistent  obedience  to  law;  like  producing  like,  and  each 
and  all  working  to  certain  definite  ends  and  purposes  continuously, 
persistently,  through  ages.  We  can  not  divest  our  minds  of  the 
thought  of  plan,  design,  purpose  and  function  in  connection  with  these, 
and  the  most  experienced  and  logical  materialist  can  not  write  or  talk 
about  them,  nor  even  think,  without  using  terms  that  represent  these 
thoughts. 

The  first  example  of  life  development  shall  be  from  an  object  you 
have  all  seen — common  mould,  such  as  is  found  about  the  stable,  in 
pastures  and  many  other  places.*  Upon  examining  a  plant  of  this  under 

'■-■The  objects  here  and  elsewhere  described  were  illustrated  by  a  large  number  of  drawings 
made  from  actual  observation,  which  are  not  reproduced  in  this  book  owing  to  the  expense  of  so 
doing.    These  drawings  greatly  assisted  the  audience  in  understanding  the  subject. 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


the  microscope  we  find  a  little  tree-like  stem  rising  up  from  a  general 
surface.  At  the  top  of  this  stem  is  an  enlargement,  nearly  round, 
scarcely  visible  to  the  unaided  eye.  At  the  base  is  a  network  of  fine 
thread-like  roots.  The  litde  head,  before  spoken  of,  is  filled  with  one 
or  two  thousand  jelly-like  particles,  about  1-3000  of  an  inch  in  diameter, 
each  being  composed  of  almost  pure  bioplasm  enclosed  in  a  thin  wall 
of  celulose.  When  the  plant  is  mature  these  little  heads  open  and 
these  little  bioplasts,  as  we  shall  call  these  small  particles,  fall  out  and 
find  a  new  resting  place,  and,  if  the  surrounding  be  favorable,  grow 
and  produce  new  plants  like  that  from  which  they  came.  Each  of 
these  bioplasts  has  all  the  possibilities  and  potencies  of  a  new  plant. 
Each  has,  within  itself,  a  mysterious,  charming,  forceful  life. 

If  we  take  a  little  taftarate  of  ammonia  and  some  of  the  fertiHz- 
ers,  such  as  some  of  the  phosphates  or  those  substances  which  contain 
oxygen,  hydrogen,  carbon,  nitrogen  and  small  traces  of  phosphorous, 
potash,  sulphur,  magnesia  and  Hme,  all  elemental  in  their  nature  but 
associated  as  compounds,  and  put  ihem  into  pure  water,  we  shall  have 
a  mineral  water  not  containing  any  of  the  compounds  composing  our 
plant.  We  shall  have  C.  O.  H.  for  the  cell  wall ;  we  have  C.  O.  H. 
N.  out  of  which  to  make  the  bioplasm ;  we  have  P.  S.  K.  MG.  and 
CA.,  which  make  the  ash,  etc.  If  we  drop  into  this  water,  thus  sup- 
plied with  the  elements  necessary  to  plant  life,  but  destitute  of  all  or- 
ganic matter,  a  single  spore,  or  bioplast,  1-3000  of  an  inch  in  diam- 
eter, and  give  it  a  temperature  of  about  80  degrees,  it  will  grow  and 
produce  a  new  plant  like  the  plant  from  which  it  derived  its  existence. 
While  it  grows  let  us  look  at  it  through  the  microscope. 

Presently  we  see  a  delicate,  fine  filament  or  thread  start  out  in 
this  direction,  then  one  in  that  direction,  and  then  another,  and 
another,  and,  finally,  a  little  star  appears  upon  the  bosom  of  the 
water.  It  is  now  a  million  times  larger  than  the  little  bioplast  we 
started  with  an  hour  or  so  ago.  It  continues  to  grow ;  a  little  stem 
starts  upward  in  disobedience  to  all  laws  of  gravitation;  it  goes  on 
climbing  up,  up,  till  it  finally  begins  to  swell  out  and  enlarges  into  a 
litde  head,  like  that  of  the  mother  plant,  in  which  we  shall  find  one 
or  two  thousand  bioplasts  like  the  one  we  sowed  upon  the  water.  Here 
we  have,  in  twenty  hours  or  less,  a  single  particle  of  living  matter — a 
single  utiit  of  life,  without  structure,  producing  by  subdivision  of  this 
bioplasm,  and  by  its  marvelous  formative  powers,  formed  material 
millions  of  times  larger  than  itself,  and  thousands  of  bioplasts  like 
itself,  and,  in  twenty  hours  more,  each  of  these  may  produce  their 
.millions,  and  the  third  generation  no  arithmetic  can  enumerate. 

Again,  take  the  bacteria  and  their  allied  forms,  always  found 


134 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


wherever  putrefaction  is  going  on,  one  of  the  most  universally  diffused 
organisms  in  existence.  Millions  of  them  may  be  seen  in  a  single  drop 
of  purifying  liquid.  Their  examination  and  study  requires  a  good 
microscope  and  high  powers.  All  human  beings  and,  probably,  all  ani- 
mals furnish  homes  for  some  of  these  minute  organisms. 

.  The  bacteria  termo  is  about  1-30,000  of  an  inch  in  diameter. 
Take  a  single  one  of  these  living  creatures  and  introduce  it  into  a  drop 
of  liquid,  containing  the  proper  food,  and  in  a  few  hours  it  will  have 
multiplied  into  millions.  You  may  see  them  wriggling,  darting  about 
here  and  there  with  great  activity,  showing  life,  power,  purpose  and 
function.  They  eat,  digest,  divide,  multiply,  grow,  move,  convert  non- 
living material  into  living  matter,  and  then  die.  Whether  they  be 
plants,  or  animals,  is  not  fully  settled. 

Many  eminent  scientists  believe  that  our  contagious  and  zymotic 
diseases  owe  their  origin  to  some  form,  or  condition,  of  these  low 
organisms  overcoming  the  vital  powers.  Hog  cholera,  chicken  cholera, 
the  cattle  disease,  and  many  others',  are  found  to  be  attended  with 
countless  numbers  of  these.  So  the  disease  that  is  spreading  such 
desolation  among  our  fruit  trees,  is  probably  due  to  a  similar  organism, 
which,  entering  the  cells  of  the  true  bark  of  the  tree,  causes  a  destruc- 
tion of  the  starch  laid  up  for  its  food,  and  thereby  starves  tl'ie  tree  to 
death.  If  these  be  the  cause  of  these  diseases  and  this  wide-spread 
ruin,  what  a  vast  interest  and  importance  they  have  for  us.  But  on 
the  other  hand  we  can  not  do  without  some  of  these  low  forms  of  life, 
for  they  are  the  scavengers  of  the  earth. 

But  let  us  examine- a  higher  form  of  life.  Take  from  the  wayside 
pool  a  drop  of  water  and  examine  it  under  the  microscope,  with  a 
power  of  250  to  500  diameters. 

Here  we  find  a  little,  cell-like  structure,  with  a  name  many  times 
larger  than  itself,  the  protococcus  phiviaUs.  This  plant  is  composed  of 
but  a  single  cell,  which  is  composed  of  two  parts,  the  cell  wall  and  the 
contained  bioplasm.  The  first  is  the  product  of  the  latter  and  is  CQm- 
posed  of  a  combination  of  materials  called  celulose.  The  materials 
entering  into  this  combination  are  C.  12  ;  H.  10;'  O.  10.  It  is  organ- 
ized, but  lifeless,  matter;  the  product  of  the  bioplasm  and  its  forces 
contained  within  the  cell.  Upon  this  living  matter,  contained  within 
these  walls  of  its  own  building,  depends  the  continued  existence,  growth 
and  multiplication  of  the  plant. 

This  living  matter,  as  near  as  can  be  ascertained,  is,  chemically, 
composed  of  C.  40;  H.  31  ,  O.  12;  N.  5.  These  are  the  elements  of 
dead  bioplasm,  but  living  bioplasm  has  never  been  analyzed.  Through 
this  living  matter  all  nutrition,  assimilation,  gro\vth  and  development 


ACTON   LECTURES.  135 

must  take  place.  Soon  we  find  our  little  plant  begins  to  enlarge,  and 
then  the  contents  divide,  and,  directly,  we  find  two  litde  cilia  protruded 
through  the  wall;  and,  finally,  two  new  plants  escape  from  the  walls 
and  swim  around  actively  in  the  water  for  a  while,  in  the  meantime 
secreting  or  building  a  wall  around  themselves  similar  to  the  one  from 
which  they  escaped,  and  soon  assume  the  quiet  state.  While  swimming 
around  you  would  very  naturally  conclude  they  were  animals,  had  you 
not  learned  better  from  observation. 

This  simple  plant  may  multiply  into  countless  millions,  yet  every 
one  of  them  proceeds  from  a  microscopic,  invisible  particle  of  bioplasm, 
and  though  arithmetic  may  be  wholly  inadequate  to  express  the  number 
of  our  plant  in  its  order  of  succession,  one  plan  has  been  adhered  to  in 
every  case.  This  particle  of  living  matter  takes  the  food,  suitable  for 
its  nourishment,  from  the  fluids  in  which  the  plant  is  bathed.  And  by 
some  instantaneous  process,  wholly  unkoivn  to  chemistry  and  physics, 
and  of  which  science  knows  nothing,  converts  that  food  into  living 
matter,  and  that  living  matter  spins  and  weaves  the  various  tissues  of 
the  plant  from  itself.  Tissues  are  never  formed  by  food  till  that  food 
has  been  vitalized  into  living  matter.  This  is  true  of  all  tissue,  whether 
animal  or  vegetable. 

All  plants,  whether  simple  or  complex,  small  or  large,  are  living 
beings — organized  beings,  composed  of  living  and  non-living  matter — 
ALL  the  product  of  bioplasm  and  the  vital  forces.  But  that  which 
builds  up  the  plant  and  continues  its  existence,  is  the  structureless  liv- 
ing matter  contained  within  the  various  cells.  If  we  ask  whence  this 
power?    What  is  life?    What  is  plaitf  We  can  only  answer: 

What  is  life?"  has  never  been  solved.  Yet  we  know  that  in  the  pres- 
ence of  this  mysterious  force  in  plants,  carbonic,  dioxide  and  ammonia 
(C.  O.  2  and  3  H.  N.),  when  brought  in  contact  with  living  matter,  in 
the  presence  of  chlorophyl  and  sunshine,  is  transformed  into  living 
matter,  and  thence  into  plant  tissue;  and,  that  while  the  living  matter 
of  all  plants,  and  of  all  animals  is  exactly  the  same  in  its  apparent 
chemical  constitution,  and  while  chemistry,  nor  physics,  nor  optics,  nor 
any  other  scientific  test  can  detect  any  difference,  we  know,  by  their 
products,  that  there  is  an  impassable  gulf  between  them,  and  that  the 
differences  are  radical  and  great. 

The  processes  of  growth  and  multiplication  in  plants  and  animals 
is  wonderful  and  full  of  interest.  They  both  multiply  in  some  of  their 
lower  forms,  by  division  merely;  in  others  by  germmation  or  budding; 
in  others  from  spores  and  alternate  generation ;  in  others  through  sex- 
ual processes ;  but,  in  whatever  way  the  growth  and  reproduction  take 
place,  they  all,  alike,  start  in  the  invisible,  i^microscQpical  particle.  oX 


136 


ACTON  LECIURES. 


living  matter  that  can  not  be  discriminated  the  one  from  another.  The 
orders,  genera,  species  and  varieties  of  plants  and  animals  number 
hundreds  of  thousands,  but  this  living  matter  in  each  works  after  a 
method  and  plan  of  its  own.  Their  powers  differ  widely.  If  we  plant 
in  the  same  soil  wheat,  peas,  buckwheat  and  beans,  we  shall  find  that 
the  wheat  makes  a  special  selection  and  use  of  the  silica  ;  the  peas  will 
select  the  lime ;  the  buckwheat  will  select  the  magnesia,  and  the  beans 
will  select  the  potash,  and  in  each  case  widely  different  plants  are  pro- 
duced, each  after  its  kind,  yet  we  can  not  discover  any  differences  in 
the  living  matter  of  these. 

We  have  seen  how  some  of  the  simpler  forms  of  plants  develop,  as 
individuals,  from  a  single  particle  of  bioplasm.  Let  us  now  examine  a 
more  complex  structure  and  see  how  beautiful,  how  wonderful,  what 
skillful,  complete,  perfect  plans  are  provided — plans  which  the  plant 
never  forsakes;  neither  adding  to  nor  subtracting  from. 

We  will  commence  with  the  spore,  which  is  not,  botanically,  a  seed, 
but  answers,  in  some  respects,  the  place  and  purpose  of  a  seed.  If 
you  will  examine  the  leaves  of  the  various  ferns  you  will  find  little 
dots  on  the  underside  of  some  of  them  ;  a  point  here  and  there  turned 
down  upon  others ;  the  edge  turned  over  and  folded  back  upon  the 
under  side  of  others.  The  fern  here  represented  is  called  the  ptcris 
trtmula,  a  variety  of  the  break  fern.  The  edges  of  the  leaf  are  folded 
back  upon  the  underside  like  the  hem  of  a  garment,  and  in  that  fold 
the  spores  are  developed,  all  along  the  margin  of  the  leaf.  This  edge, 
reflexed  back  upon  the  under  side,  is  called  the  indusium  or  covering ; 
under  this  are  the  sporagia  or  spore  cases,  containing  a  great  number  of 
very  minute  spores,  scarcely  visible  to  the  unaided  eye.  If  we  make 
a  section  of  the  spore,  by  cutting  through  it,  and  examine  it  under  the 
microscope,  we  shall  find  that  it  is  composed  of  two  parts,  the  cell  wall 
and  contained  bioplasm,  or  living  matter.  In  this  bioplasm  is  a  nucleus 
or  center  of  growth,  and,  sometimes,  a  few  oil  globules  may  be  seen 
here  and  there.  This  living  matter  has  to  accomplish  the  work  of 
building  up  a  new  fern. 

If  this  spore  is  sown  upon  moist  earth  and  kept  at  a  proper  tem- 
perature it  will  begin  the  process  of  producing  a  new  fern  like  its 
parent.  The  outer  wall  of  the  spore  becomes  soft  and  the  force  of  the 
living  matter  within  breaks  this  outer  wall  and  the  bioplasm  pushes  out 
the  inner  wall  and  flows  outward  into  a  kind  of  tube  or  root,  called  a 
hypha;  this  takes  another  step,  and  divides  into  two,  three,  four  and 
more  cells,  at  first  transversely  and  then  longitudinally,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  sends  out,  near  the  spore,  a  little  root  in  quest  of  food. 
The  expansion  produced  by  these  successive  divisions  of  cells  is  called 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


«37 


a  prothallus,  and  is  only  preliminary  to  the  future  processes  of  growth. 
This  prothallus  sends  out  a  number  of  little  roots  from  its  under  side, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  the  green  coloring  matter  of  plants  is  developed 
by  the  bioplasms  of  the  cells,  and  here  and  there  a  cell  begins 
to  develop  into  other  cells  at  right  angles  to  the  under  surface  of  the 
prothallus  and  produce  two  new  kinds  of  c.ells  of  vast  importance  and 
of  great  interest,  which  are  called  antheridia  and  archeg07iia.  To  see 
these  and  fully  make  out  the  parts  requires  a  pretty  high  power,  say 
an  1-8  or  i-io  objective  with  such  eye  pieces  as  will  give  us  from  500 
to  2,500  diameters. 

In  these  cells,  called  antheridia,  are  developed  what  are  called 
antherozoids,  which  answer  to  spermatozoa  or  life  seeds.  These  are 
very  minute  elongated  particles  of  bioplasm  possessing  extremely  deli" 
cate  cilia.  These  cilia  enable  them  to  swim  through  the  moisture  on 
the  underside  of  the  prothallus  to  the  archegonia,  which  they  enter 
through  a  canal  provided  for  the  purpose  and  there  mingle  their  bio- 
plasm with  that  of  a  cell  developed  in  the  archegonia,  called  the  em- 
bryo cell,  where  they  find  suitable  food  and  conditions  for  further  de- 
velopment. As  soon  as  the  antherozoid  enters  the  embryo  cell  the 
latter  is  said  to  be  fertilized. 

The  embryo  cell,  after  it  is  fertilized,  divides  into  two,  then  into 
four  cells,  still  remaining  in  the  archegonium,  which  remains  attached 
to  the  prothallus.  Two  of  these  cells  become  firmly  imbedded  in  the 
prothallus  and  act  as  roots,  drawing  nourishment  from  the  prothallus. 
One  of  the  remaining  cells  develops  into  the  stalk  that  is  to  constitute 
that  part  of  the  fern  that  is  above  ground,  and  is  to  bear  leaves 
and  future  spores ;  the  other  develops  into  roots  proper.  Grad- 
ually the  stalk  of  the  fern  works  upward,  against  the  law  of  gravi- 
tation, and  grows  into  the  beautiful,  completed  plant  as  we  see 
it,  and  beneath  the  ground  are  its  roots,  all  performing  their  re- 
spective functions.  We  have  now  gone  through  the  process  of 
making  a  fern,  in  brief,  and  a  wonderful  process  it  is,  and  this 
is  the  way  ferns  of  this  kind  always  do.  The  single  embryo  cell 
will  produce  only  one  fern,  but  that  fern  will  produce  millions  of  spores, 
each  capable  of  going  through  the  same  process. 

If  we  go  to  the  higher  forms  of  plant  life,  there,  too,  we  shall  find 
that  the  plant  is  developed,  as  an  individual,  from  a  microscopic  parti- 
cle of  structureless  living  matter. 

Take,  for  example,  our  common  Indian  corn.  We  find  the  ma- 
tured plant  composed  of  many  parts,  made  up  of  many  millions  of  cells, 
all  of  which  were  derived  from  and  are  the  product  of  a  single  cell  or 
particle  of  bioplasm.    Each  grain  of  corn,  which  is  a  seed,  is  capable 


138 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


of  producing  a  plant  like  that  from  which  it  came,  but  where  is  the 
life  of  that  grain  ?  What  is  there  within  this  little  seed  capable  of 
growing  and  producing  all  the  varied  phenomena  of  stalk,  blade,  silk, 
tassel,  root  and  the  ripened  ear  of  corn?  Most  of  this  grain  is  dead 
matter,  such  as  starch,  oil,  etc.,  provided  as  food  for  the  hidden  life 
within,  and,  as  long  as  that  life  remains,  it  is  all  the  time,  slowly  or 
rapidly,  appropriating  that  food  according  as  it  is  in  an  active  state  of 
growth  or  dormant ;  but  the  process  of  life  development  in  the  germ 
hidden  away  in  this  grain  has  already  made  considerable  progress 
while  the  seed  was  maturing,  and  the  embryo  is  now  composed  of,  not 
one,  but  quite  a  number  of  cells,  though  yet  very  small.  Therefore, 
we  must  go  back  somewhat  to  the  very  beginning  of  this  life  to  find  the 
single,  individual  cell — the  unit  of  life.  We  go  back  to  the  time  when 
the  silk  and  the  tassel  of  the  corn  stalk  appeared.  The  nest,  or  ovary, 
in  which  each  grain  of  corn  is  to  grow  is  situated  in  a  little  cup,  in 
which  a  silken  thread  has  its  origin.  Here,  at  the  attached  end  of  this 
thread,  will  be  found  the  embryo  cell.  On  examining  the  tassel  we 
shall  find  a  great  number  of  little  sacks,  containing  a  great  many  par- 
ticles of  small  dust  or  pollen  grains.  Each  of  these  pollen  grains  is 
filled  with  a  particle  of  living  matter,  or  bioplasm.  Here  we  find  the 
particle  from  which  the  future  grain  of  corn  is  to  develop — that  without 
which  there  can  be  no  future  grain  developed.  Here  is  the  single  cell 
from  which  our  plant  is  to  evolve.  But  this  germ,  this  living  matter, 
must  have  a  suitable  place  and  proper  food  for  its  development.  It 
must  get  into  the  little  cup,  or  ovary,  situated  on  the  part  called  the 
cob ;  but  that  is  covered  over  with  many  folds  of  husk,  and  is,  seem- 
ingly, inaccessible  to  thing  so  small  and  fragile  as  our  pollen  grain. 
But  we  find  ihe  silken  thread,  already  spoken  of,  arising  in  that  ovary, 
running  along  the  cob,  under  the  husk,  till  it  reaches  the  air  and  is 
fully  exposed  to  view.  It  is  moist  and  penetrable,  and  the  grain  of 
pollen  falls  upon  this  delicate  thread  and  immediately  the  living  matter 
within  the  walls  of  the  pollen  grain,  thrilling  with  the  marvelous  life- 
force,  pushes  out  a  process  from  the  pollen  grain,  a  pollen  tube,  and 
penetrates,  as  an  exceedingly  minute  thread,  through  the  length  of  the 
silken  thread  and  enters  the  ovary  and  mingles  its  bioplasm  with  that 
of  the  embryo  cell  contained  in  the  ovary.  The  embryo  cell  is  now 
said  to  be  fertilized  and  the  progress  of  development  begins.  Had  not 
the  living  matter  of  the  pollen  grain  entered  this  cell  there  never  could 
have  been  any  development  there.  This  cell,  thus  fertilized,  divides 
into  two,  four,  eight,  many  cells,  till  the  completed  development  is 
effected,  and  the  perfect  seed  is  produced  with  its  supply  of  food  for 
future  use. 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


When  that  seed  shall  be  planted,  and  given  proper  environments 
of  moisture,  heat,  light,  food,  etc.,  the  processes  of  growth  will  be 
repeated,  and  like  seeds  will  be  produced,  and  so  on  to  the  end  of  time. 
The  circle  of  life  is  completed  in  the  production  of  other  lives  like  its 
own.  As  we  have  seen,  this  life  bejm  in  an  invisible,  single  cell,  the 
vital  power  being  associated  with  a  minute,  structureless,  p;irticle  of 
matter,  in  no  way  differing  in  appearance  from  that  which  any  plant, 
animal  or  man  grows.  Yet  we  know,  as  before  said,  there  is  a  radical 
difference.  This  particle  of  living  matter,  from  which  our  grain  of 
corn  develops,  always  works  in  the  same  way,  after  the  same  plan  and 
methods,  always  bringing  forth  the  same  results,  and  never  produces  an 
animal,  or  a  different  species  of  plant. 

•  Many  other  interesting  lessons  might  be  drawn  from  the  vegetable 
kingdom,  but  let  us  now  turn  our  attention  to  the  animal  world,  one 
step  higher,  for  awhile. 

One  of  the  most  universally  diffused  forms  of  animal  life,  one  of 
the  lowest  forms,  is  the  amceba.  It  is  found  in  our  ditches,  ponds,  and 
all  stagnant  waters,  and  in  many  other  places.  It  may  be  very  readily 
procured  by  infusing  some  hay,  horse  droppings,  cow  droppings,  or 
almost  any  vegetable  or  animal  matter,  a  short  time  in  some  water, 
pouring  off  the  water  and  setting  it  a  few  days  in  a  warm  place  exposed 
to  the  air.  In  a  day  or  so,  it  will  literally  be  alive  with  amoeba  and 
many  other  forms  of  living  beings. 

I'his  amoeba  has  figured  very  extensively,  of  late  years,  in  scien- 
tific discussions.  It  may  be  said  to  be  the  simplest  form  of  animal 
existence.  It  is,  therefore,  regarded  as  a  kind  of  morphological  unit  of 
organization,  or  the  first  step  in  animal  form.  It  is  also  considered  the 
unit  of  physiological  function,  or  the  starting  point  of  differentation  of 
functional  organs.  It  is  an  animal ;  it  requires  read;;  -made,  organized 
matter  on  which  to  subsist.  It  is  without  structure,  a  mere  mass  of 
living  matter,  often  extremely  small,  requiring  high  powers  to  see  it. 
It  is  transparent,  semi-liquid  and  has  no  parts  that  can  properly  be 
called  organs;  it  has  no  mouth,  limbs,  stomach,  muscles,  lungs  or 
nerves,  yet  it  moves  in  every  part  and  in  any  and  all  directions.  It 
takes  into  its  body,  at  any  point,  food,  in  the  form  of  lifeless  matter, 
and  assimilates  and  converts  it  into  living  matter.  It  becomes  hungry, 
craves  food,  and  adopts  means  to  obtain  food.  A  particle,  suitable  for 
its  sustenance,  lies  near  it,  in  the  same  drop  of  water  ;  an  arm  of  bio- 
plasm flows  out  toward  the  particle  of  food  from  the  amoeba,  envel- 
ops the  food  and  flows  back  again  to  the  general  mass,  where  the  food 
is  assimilated  and  is  converted  into  living  matter.  It  grows,  divides 
and  multiplies,  yet  it  always  produces  the  same  low  form  of  hfe,  and 


I40 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


never  rises  any  higher  in  the  scale  of  being.  The  white  blood  corpuscle 
of  man  resembles  the  amueba  in  its  structure  and  motions ;  so  do  all 
free  plant  cells,  and  the  germs  of  eggs  and  of  animals.  No  test  has 
yet  been  able  to  distinguish  the  bioplasm  of  any  one  of  these  from  the 
others  in  its  pure  and  free  state,  yet  we  know  that  there  are  differences, 
radical  and  wide.  The  materialist  claims  that  the  simplest  form  of  the 
amoeba  had  it  origin  by  some  accidental,  spontaneous  molecular  action 
of  the  elements — carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen  and  nitrogen  composing  it 
— in  the  remote  antiquity  of  the  past,  and  that  all  other  animal  forms, 
and  man  himself,  have  evolved  from  this  ancestral  form  of  animal  life 
by  gradual  and  long  continued  variations  and  accessions,  but  there  is 
no  proof  for  such  a  position  anywhere  to  be  found.  The  fact  that  we 
have  this  same  form  now,  in  all  its  simplicity,  still  producing  the  same 
low  form  of  animal  life,  without  change,  or  variation,  or  improvement, 
is  strong  evidence  to  the  contrary.  But  we  can  not  discuss  the  que.s- 
tion  of  evolution  in  this  lecture. 

Let  us  take  another  step  higher  in  the  animal  kingdom,  and  ex- 
amine how  the  individual  is  there  derived  and  developed. 

Go  to  one  of  our  ponds  and  dip  up  a  glass  of  water,  in  which  are 
suspended  some  light  forms  of  plant,  or  floating  matter,  set  it  in  a  place 
exposed  to  the  light — a  window  for  example — an  hour  or  more.  Upon 
examination  you  will  probably  find  a  number  of  little  particles,  resem- 
bling very  minute  palm  trees  with  the  roots,  attached  to  the  sides  of. 
the  glass;  or  to  some  floating  object  in  the  water,  with  the  top,  com- 
posed of  five,  eight  or  more  branches,  reaching  downward  or  swaying 
around  in  the  water.  Some  of  these  animals  may  be  1-20,  and  others 
1-2  an  inch  in  length.  Some  are  of  a  greenish  color,  and  others  are 
nearly  white;  others  are  brownish.  The  white  varieties  predominate 
in  the  waters  about  our  place.  These  little  creatures  will  be  found  to 
be  living  beings;  they  are  animals  and  are^called  polypes,  or  hydras. 
They  belong  to  the  sub-kingdom  of  radiates;  they  are  of  the  same  order 
as  the  coral  insect.  [The  complete  development  of  the  hydra  was 
here  illustrated  by  drawings.] 

You  see  branches  coming  out  from  the  side  of  the  old  polype,  and 
again  branches  from  some  of  these  branches.  This  is  one  mode  of 
reproduction,  called  germmation  or  budding.  A  cell  begins  to  develop 
into  a  side  branch,  and  progresses  sometimes  till  it  is  nearly  as 
large  as  the  parent  hydra  upon  which  it  is  growing,  and  then  separates 
from  the  mother  hydra  and  fastening  its  little  tail  to  some  object  com- 
mences housekeeping  for  itself.  The  stomach  and  digestive  organs  of 
hydra  consist  only  of  a  simple  sack.  The  body  is  composed  of  two 
layers  of  cells — a  kind  of  two-ply  arrangement — the  inner  cells,  con^ 


ACtON  LECTURES.  14! 

stltutlng  the  lining  of  this  sack,  take  up  the  food  necessary  for  its  nour- 
ishment by  imbibition,  and,  in  the  Hving  matter  of  these  cells,  this  food 
is  converted  into  living  matter,  and  that  living  matter  is  by  itself  spun 
into  the  various  parts  of  the  being,  producing  new  cells,  etc. 

But  the  hydra  multiplies  in  another  way  also.  Near  the  base,  on  one 
side,  will  be  developed  a  large  cell  or  kind  of  sack,  called  an  ovary,  in 
which  an  embryo  cell  is  formed  and  fitted  for  fertilization.  Near  the 
mouth  will  be  also  found  another  cell  or  sack,  in  which  spermatozoa  are 
produced  and  matured.  These  escaping  from  this  cell,  one  of  them 
passes  down  to  the  ovary  and  enters  it,  and  there  mingles  its  protoplasm 
with  that  of  the  embryo  cell,  and  it  is  then  said  to  be  fertilized  and 
soon  escapes  and  is  developed  into  the  perfect  hydra. 

The  impregnated  ovum  by  division  becomes  a  mulberry,  like  mass ; 
this  becomes  hollow  by  accumulation  of  fluid  withni  it,  and  this,  by 
gradual  thinning,  opens  at  one  end  and  forms  a  sack,  and  soon  the 
tentacles  are  produced  and  we  have  the  perfect  hydra. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  hydra  may  be  turned  inside  out  and  go 
on  Hving  and  digesting  its  food  as  w^ell  as  ever.  I  have  never  been 
able  to  effect  this  turning  process,  and  can  not  speak  from  experience. 
The  hydra  may  be  cut  into  halves  or  quarters,  and  these  parts  will  pro- 
duce perfect  hydras  from  the  cells  composing  them,  and  repair  ail 
damages:  This  tends  to  show  that  the  hydra  is  an  aggregation  of  liv- 
ing cells,  having  nearly  similar  powers,  and  that  there  has  not  been  a 
very  great  differentiation  of  function  in  this  form  of  life. 

The  outer  cells  and  inner  cells  of  the  hydra  are  very  beautifully 
interlaced  together,  and  in  their  union  we  get  our  first  hint  of  animal 
muscle.  It  has  not,  in  the  true  sense,  any  muscles,  but  there  appears 
to  be  the  material  for  the  muscle,  and  to  be  so  interwoven  in  the  cells 
as  to  produce  the  effects  of  muscles.  The  two  coats,  or  walls  of  cells, 
continue  into  the  tentacles  of  the  hydra.  A  careful  examination  of 
these  cells,  under  the  microscope,  will  show  that  they  all  have  a  neu- 
cleus,  or  center  of  growth  and  life,  and  that  the  outer  cells,  many  of 
those  in  the  tentacles  also,  have  another  very  peculiar  kind  of  cell 
w^ithin  the  cell  proper.  These  are  called  nematocysts,  or  stinging  cells, 
which  consists  of  a  capsule,  in  which,  when  at  rest,  a  very  delicate 
thread,  or  piercer,  is  coiled  up  and  turned  inward,  which,  upon  suffi- 
cient provocation,  is  rapidly  everted,  or  thrown  out,  piercing  the  ob- 
ject with  w^hich  it  comes  in  contact.  This  thread  is  supplied  with  three 
barbs  at  its  base.  These  enable  the  tiny  creature  to  capture  its  prey 
and  to  defend  itself.  The  amoeba,  of  which  we  have  before  spoken, 
probably  defends  its  life  by  the  secretion  of  a  viscid  substance,  capa- 
ble of  withstanding  adverse  conditions,  in  which  itself  is  enfolded  and 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


where  it  remains  till  favorable  conditions  exist  for  its  further  develop- 
ment. 

In  the  hydra  we  have  a  far  more  complex  structure  than  the 
amoeba,  yet  it  commences  its  life  as  an  individual  in  a  single  cell.  It 
always  develops  on  the  same  general  plan,  and,  probably,  has  so  done 
in  all  ages.  It  has  never  been  known  to  produce  any  thing  else  than 
the  hydra.  It  has  its  own  plan  of  life  different  from  all  other  plans  of  life, 
and  works  after  a  method  and  for  a  purpose,  and  with  results  differing 
from  all  other  living  beings.  The  particle  of  living  matter  from  which 
it  takes  its  individual  origin,  like  all  the  others  we  have  noticed,  can  not 
be  distinguished  by  any  test  from  any  other  bioplasm. 

As  we  rise  from  lower  to  higher  forms  of  life  we  hnd  new  and  ad- 
ditional forces  unfolding  themselves,  such  as  nerve  force  in  sentient 
beings,  and  still  higher,  rational  and  moral  forces  produce  their  phe- 
nomena. As  we  tend  upward  there  is  a  constant  increase  of  power,  of 
energy,  of  force  and  capacity,  a  fact  that  we  will  have  use  for  as  we 
proceed. 

Not  only  do  these  lower  forms  of  existences,  which  we  have  de- 
scribed, commence  their  individual  existence  in  a  microscopical  par- 
ticle of  bioplasm,  but  that  wonderful  organism,  called  man,  commencs 
his  existence  in  an  invisible  particle  of  living  matter.  As  an  indi- 
vidual he  begins  existence  as  a  simple  germ,  without  structure,  and  in 
no  way  distinguishable  from  that  of  any  other  living  being. 

But  that  single,  invisible  bioplast  has  a  marvelous  work  to  perform 
■ — a  work  far  more  complicated,  requiring  more  precision  and  more 
skillfully  laid  plans  than  ever  was  required  in  workshop  or  laboratory 
of  man.  A  man — a  grand  and  glorious  man — whom  the  world  shall 
look  upon  and  call  great  and  good;  a  being  in  whom^all  heaven  and 
earth  is  interested;  a  being  for  whom  all  else  exists;  a  man,  with  high 
resolves,  noble  purposes,  large  capacities,  grand  and  majestic  forces; 
with  all  the  passions,  loves  and  hates  posjsible  to  his  nature;  with 
burning,  persuasive  words  of  eloquence  and  marvelous  powers  and  in- 
fluences ;  a  man  that  shall  rule  nations  and  lead  armies ;  one  who  can 
weep  with  the  weeping  and  comfort  the  sorrowing ;  one  who  shall  with 
one  hand  hold  the  lightnings  and  with  the  other  lay  hold  upon  the 
mighty  forces  of  nature  and  make  them  tributary  to  his  purposes  and 
obedient  to  his  will;  one  possessing  every  other  power  it  is"  possible 
for  man  to  possess  or  wield,  is  to  be  formed,  fashioned  and  brought 
into  existence.  There  are  to  be  developed  in  darkness  and  silence — 
long  before  they  can  be  used— from  the  little  bioplast,  muscles  and 
nerves;  arteries  and  veins;  skin  and  bones;  lungs  with  which  to 
breath,  and  a  heart  to  pump  the  living  stream  of  blood  to  every  part ; 


i 


ACTON  LECTURES.  143 

eyes  to  see  and  weep;  ears  to  hear;  a  tongue  that  can  taste  and  speak, 
bless  and  curse,  praise  and  pray ;  a  brain  for  a  home  for  thought ;  a 
soul  to  think,  contrive,  will  and  perform  ;  feet  to  walk  and  hands  to 
minister ;  all  these,  and  many  other  organs  and  parts  and  a  vast  army 
of  millions  or  billions  of  bioplasts,  to  be  harmoniously,  wonderfully 
co-ordinated  and  set  to  work  in  the  same  organism.  This  being,  thus 
endowed,  to  be  brought  into  life,  into  the  world,  the  weakest  of  the 
weak — a  poor,  little,  helpless  babe,  to  be  trained,  educated,  developed ; 
to  work,  labor,  and  sail  across  the  ocean  of  life  to  the  farther  shore,  a 
distance  of  three  score  and  ten  years,  more  or  less — and  then,  what? 
Consult  your  Bible,  it  alone  has  answer ;  the  skeptic  has  none.  An  enor- 
mous task,  truly,  has  our  little  bioplast  before  it ;  but  there  is  a  pov/er 
that  impels  it  on  to  work.  It  commences  in  littleness  and  weakness, 
and  proceeds  for  years,  day  and  night,  every  moment,  ceaselessly 
weaving  and  spmning  and  fashioning  this  wonderful  being,  called  man, 
till  he  stands  before  the  world  in  all  his  majesty,  glory  and  power. 
The  original  bioplast  has  divided  many  billions  of  times,  and  has  con- 
verted many  tons  of  food  into  living  matter  and  that  into  tissues,  and 
has  made  no  mistakes. 

Now  all  this  growth  and  multiplication,  and  all  these  formative 
process,  can  not  be  accounted  for  by  any  known  or  discoverable  prop- 
erties of  matter,  nor  by  any  chemical,  physical  or  mechanical  laws, 
•  nor  by  any  hypothesis  invented  by  materialists.    There  is  a  marvelous 

mystery  here. 

The  portals  of  life  have  not  been  opened  wide.  They  have  only 
been  left  ajar  that  we  might  look  in  and  behold  the  hem  of  her  gar- 
ments. Beyond  there  is  a  something  that  is  not  involved  in  matter,  and 
can  not  be  evolved  from  matter ;  a  power  that  is  superior  and  external 
to,  yet  intimately  associated  with,  the  little  particles  of  bioplasm ;  a 
grand  and  mysterious  force  that  has  neither  form  nor  extension;  a  soul ; 
a  spirit;  '*a  sublime  and  heaven-given  grace  of  God." 

Looking  a  little  farther  into  the  holy  of  hohes,  through  the  door 
ajar  upon  a  shoreless  sea,  faith  sees  a  power  still  superior  and  external 
to  all  that  we  hitherto  have  seen ;  an  Almighty  power  that  originates, 
arranges  plans,  co-ordinates  and  presides  over  the  weaving  of  all  these 
mysterious  threads  into  countless  fabrics  existing  on  this  earth  of  ours, 
and  that  knows  before  hand  what  the  beauteous  web  shall  be. 

What,  then,  is  matter  ?  Shall  we  not  conclude  that  it  is  an  expres- 
sion of  God's  thought?  God's  will  rendered  apparent,  permanent,  opera, 
tive?  Does  not  matter  seem  endowed  with  properties  befitting  its 
I  author?    Does  not  God  tell  us  'Hhat  the  worlds  were  framed  by  the 


144 


ACTON  LECTtJRES. 


word  of  God,  and  things  which  are  seen,  were  not  made  of  things 
which  do  appear  ?" 

God's  relation  to  matter  is  wonderfully  intimate.  All  forces  re- 
spond to  His  will,  if  not,  in  fact  the  mere  expression  of  His  will;  and 
as  God  draws  matter  nearer  to  Himself  and  endows  it  with  more  of 
Himself,  in  the  way  of  marvelous  forces,  the  more  exalted  it  becomes. 

In  the  simple  cell  of  the  microscopic  plant;  in  the  motions  and  life 
of  the  amoeba;  in  the  activities  of  the  infusoria;  in  the  instincts  of  the 
animals  around  us;  in  every  particle  of  life,  faith  beholds  modes  of 
Divine  action.  And  as  we  look  around  us  and  consider  the  work  of 
His  hands,  like  the  inspired  men  and  prophets  of  old,  we  see  in  the 
clouds  the  dust  of  His  feet;  we  hear  in  the  thunder  His  voice;  we  see 
in  the  flash  of  the  lightning  the  light  of  His  eye;  we  see  Him  clothing 
the  forest  and  fields  in  verdure  and  bloom;  we  behold  Him  feeding 
the  sparrows,  and  we  see  all  the  multitudinous  lines  of  the  universe 
converging  to  a  mighty  center  and  resting  safely  in  the  hands  of  God; 
and  as  we  rise,  step  by  step,  from  one  form  of  life  to  another,  we  hear 
them  singing  the  song,  "Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee." 

"Blind  unbelief  is  sure  to  err, 
A«d  scan  his  works  in  vain." 

As  to  the  order  or  succession  of  creation,  and  the  steps  by  which 
we  arrive  at  man  and  his  place  in  the  universe,  I  can  only  say  a  few 
words  at  this  time. 

I  believe  that  all  the  laws,  and  forces,  and  energies,  found  in  na- 
ture, had  their  origin  in  the  will  of  God;  that  what  we  call  natural 
laws  are  modes  of  Divine  action;  that  back  of  and  behind  all  law 
stands  God,  the  author  and  executive  of  that  law. 

The  Bible  tells  us  that  "in  the  beginning  God  created  the  heavens 
and  the  earth,"  by  which  we  understand  all  material  elements  in  exist- 
ence as  elements,  and  that  at  this  time  "the  earth  was  without  form 
and  void,"  and  darkness  was  "  upon  the  face  of  the  deep." 

In  a  drawing,  which  is  not  reproduced  in  this  work,  I  have  at- 
tempted to  diagrammatically  represent  the  thoughts  here  and  elsewhere 
presented.  A  broad  line  proceeding  from  God  represents  the  energy 
and  force,  or  will  of  God,  proceeding  from  Him  in  the  beginning, 
speakmg  into  existence  the  heavens  and  the  earth  in  their  void,  dark, 
and  elemental  state.  How  long  this  period  continued  we  are  not  told. 
But,  at  a  time  after  this,  "the  spirit  of  God  moved  upon  the  face  of 
the  deep,"  as  the  elements  are  termed,  and  God  said,  "let  there  be 
light,  and  there  was  light." 

This  act  of  God  is  represented  by  another  broad  line  proceeding 
from  God  and  covering  the  first,  and  shows  the  introduction  of  those 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


M5 


forces  and  energies  known  as  light,  heat,  electricity,  chemical  affinity, 
etc.,  which  acted  upon  and  dominated  over  the  elements,  and  out  of 
them  caused  to  arise  various  compounds  and  combinations  found  in  the 
inorganic  world.  These  two  acts  of  creative  power  result  in  the  crea- 
tion of  the  inorganic  world.  Without  these  last  forces,  this  second 
creative  act,  the  elements  could  never  have  united  and  entered  into 
the  state  of  compounds.  The  existences  represented  by  the  first  line 
could  never  rise  to  the  second  step  or  plane  of  compounds  except 
under  the  forces  represented  by  this  second  creative  act.  Probably 
this  second  line  should  be  divided  into  two. 

Again,  we  read  that  another  day  came  in  the  annals  of  creation 
when  God  said,  "Let  the  earth  bring  forth  grass,  the  herb  yielding 
seed,"  etc.,  "after  its  kind."  This  epoch  we  represent  by  a  third  line 
proceeding  from  God  and  covering  and  dominating  the  other  two,  and 
represents  the  introduction  of  the  laws  of  vitality,  that  power  by  which 
the  inorganic  is  taken  and  converted  into  vitalized  matter,  or  bioplasm, 
and  by  which  that  bioplasm,  of  itself,  produces  tissues  and  organic 
beings  as  found  in  the  vegetable  world.  Out  of  this  arises  the  differ- 
entiations of  all  the  varied  hosts  of  plant  life.  There  was  no  power 
inherent  or  prior  existent  in  the  lines  one  and  two  representing  the 
creation  of  the  elements  and  the  formation  of  these  into  compounds  by 
which  either  of  them  could  possibly  be  raised  into  the  plane  of  vitality. 
A  new  force,  power  or  energy,  a  new  creative  act  of  God  or  expression 
of  His  will,  had  to  proceed  from  God  to  effect  this  lifting  up  from  the 
plane  of  inorganic  compounds  to  the  plane  of  organic  life  in  its  lowest 
form.  To  reach  this  plane  the  elements  must,  first,  pass  into  the  condi- 
tion of  compounds  and  thence  into  plant  life  and  structure.  The  plant 
does  not  take  oxygen,  hydrogen,  carbon  and  nitrogen  as  simple  ele- 
mentary substances,  but  takes  them  from  compounds,  as,  for  example, 
carbonic  dioxide  (C.  O.  2)  and  ammonia  (H.  N.  3)  in  solution  are  taken 
up  by  the  bioplasm  of  the  plant,  and  in  the  presence  of  that  bioplasm, 
and  in  the  presence  of  sunlight  and  other  favorable  environments,  are 
converted  into  bioplasm,  and  thence  into  celulose  and  other  parts  of 
the  plant.  Out  of  these  elements,  taken  from  these  and  other  com- 
pounds, the  organism  is  constructed  by  this  master  builder,  bioplasm,  in 
which,  and  through  which,  this  vital  energy  coming  into  our  world,  in 
the  third  act  of  creation,  finds  means  of  work  and  manifestation. 

Plants  in  this  plane  become  differentiated;  live  their  period;  are 
subject  to  the  laws  of  vitality  but  do  not  rise  as  independent  beings  out 
of  that  plane ;  they  are  ever  of  that  plane  and  can  never  evolve  into 
anything  above  that  plane ;  no  higher  force  than  that  that  brought  them 
into  existence  is  found  in  their  plane.  Plant  life  precedes  animal  life. 
10 


146 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


It  is  below  animal  life,  and,  as  yet,  no  animal  life  has  had  a  place  on 
earth,  for  that  is  the  result  of  another  creative  act,  as  will  be  seen. 
Plants  come  into  existence  and  die  and  sink  back  into  the  great  mass 
of  force  from  which  they  came,  according  to  the  laws  of  conservation 
of  energy.  In  their  differentiation  they  do  not  become  completely  in- 
dividualized and  independent  beings,  but  are  subject  to  invariable  and 
controlling  laws  and  act  invariably  in  the  same  way,  and  are  thus  tied 
down  to  nature — to  that  plane  in  which  they  have  their  origin — and, 
hence,  in  death,  are  not  immortal. 

We  take  another  step  down  the  corridors  of  time  and  we  hear  the 
voice  of  the  Almighty,  saying,  "Let  the  waters,"  etc.,  "bring  forth 
abundantly  the  moving  creature  that  hath  life,"  etc.  This  period  we 
represent  by  a  fourth  line  proceeding  from  the  Almighty,  which  repre- 
sents the  introduction  of  sentient  life,  of  mind,  of  what  is  called  in- 
stinct and  those  forces  and  energies  found  in  the  animal  kingdom  and 
not  found  in  the  vegetable  kingdom.  These  forces  dominate  and  rise 
above  all  the  preceding  forces  and  energies,  and  utilize  them.  We 
find  all  the  forces,  operating  in  the  several  successive  stages  of  creation, 
acting  in  this  plane,  but  the  last  dominates  all  the  others;  animals,  sen- 
tient beings,  come  into  existence  and  are  higher,  superior,  to  all  pre- 
ceding existences,  but  sentient  life  can  not  exist  without  plant  life 
preceding  it;  plant  life  can  not  exist  without  compounds  preceding  it; 
and  compounds  can  not  exist  without  preceding  elements.  Each  suc- 
cessive step  rests  upon  that  immediately  preceding  it.  Animal  life  can 
not  take  the  simple  elements  and  convert  them  into  tissue,  or  living 
matter ;  nor  can  it  take  of  the  inorganic  compounds  and  convert  them 
into  living  matter  and  animal  tissue,  but  can  only  subsist  on  organic 
matter,  that  which  has  first  been  vitalized  by  plant  life  and  has  thereby 
been  converted  into  plant  tissue,  and  then  directly  or  through  some 
other  animal,  passes  into  animal  organism. 

Animal  life  becomes  more  completely  differentiated  than  plant  life 
and  becomes  freer,  has  the  power  of  moving,  willing,  acting,  yet  is  not 
completely  individuated.  Animals  run  in  certain  channels,  or  upon 
tracks  laid  down  for  them;  they  are  the  subjects  of  instinct.  The  ani- 
mal never  rises  any  higher  than  the  power  of  instinct  can  lift  it.  In- 
stinct is  said  to  be  a  mode  of  Divine  action.  The  animal  commits  no 
mistakes ;  its  life  fulfills  most  perfectly  its  mission,  so  far  as  not  inter- 
ferred  with  by  dominant  powers.  But  why  does  the  animal  commit  no 
mistakes?  Why  do  animals  live  on,  age  after  age,  without  any  ad- 
vance or  improvement  ?  Because  God  has  appointed  to  them  modes 
of  action.  They  do  not  become  perfectly  free  agents,  do  not  become 
perfectly  individuated ;  hence,  the  animal,  at  death,  merely  sinks  back 


i 


ACTON  LECTURES.  14/ 

into  the  plane  of  force  or  energy  from  whence  derived,  and  is  not  im- 
mortal as  an  individual.  The  law  of  conservation  of  energy  here 
asserts  itself  again. 

I  do  not  believe  that  God  created  all  these  existences  and  estab- 
lished certain  laws  by  which  they  should  ever  work  out  their  purposes, 
and  then  retired  and  left  them  to  themselves,  but  that  God  is  ever  ex- 
ercising a  supervising  care  over  all  his  creatures.  Just  how  direct  that 
supervision  is  we  do  not  know.  That  vital  activities,  sentient  activi- 
ties, physical  and  chemical  activities,  are  modes  of  Divine  action,  we 
can  not  doubt.  It  affords  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  phenomena 
otherwise  inexplicable.  (That  step  in  creation  relating  to  the  relations 
of  cosmical  bodies,  and  their  co-ordination,  I  can  not  discuss  irt  this 
lecture.) 

But  God  does  not  stop  at  the  plane  of  sentient  life  in  the  processes 
of  creation.  We  find,  that  at  the  close  of  this  period,  when  the  earth 
had  obeyed  his  Divine  commands  and  had  brought  forth  the  myraid 
host  of  living  creatures  of  land,  sea  and  air,  he  again  exercises  his  cre- 
ative energies  and  sends  out  forces  and  energies  that  dominate  and 
cover  all  others,  and  he  tells  us  he  made  man  of  ' '  the  dust  of  the  earth," 
and  "breathed  into  him  the  breath  of  life,"  and  made  him  "in  His 
own  image  and  likeness,",  and  blessed  him  and  gave  him  power  and 
dominion  over  every  living  thing.  This  act  and  epoch  we  represent 
by  a  fifth  line  proceeding  from  God,  and  covering  all  others,  and  this 
extends  beyond  all  the  others  into  eternity.  In  this  plane,  the  plane  of 
free  will,  of  spiritual  and  moral  life,  we  find  man  becoming  perfectly 
individuated ;  a  perfectly  free  being  as  to  will,  having  an  independent 
existence  and  power  of  choice;  a  complete,  separate  existence,  which 
may  be  represented  by  a  circle,  rismg  out  of  nature,  slightly  attached 
to  nature  by  chords  of  physical,  vital  and  sentient  existence,  which 
death  at  last  cuts  asunder  and  sets  him  free.  In  his  free  will, 
in  his  perfect  individuality,  in  his  spiritual  and  moral  nature,  he 
is  in  the  image  and  likeness  of  his  Maker.  The  force  and  energy 
that  enters  into  the  structure  of  man  enters  him  for  all  eternity.  It 
sinks  not  back  into  the  great  mass  of  force  from  whence  taken.  He 
comes  from  God,  but  he  never  becomes  a  part  of  God;  does  not  sink 
back  into  God  and  lose  his  individuality.  He  ever  preserves  his  per- 
sonal identity,  and  if  sinless  and  living  in  harmony  with  God's  will, 
when  cut  loose  by  death  from  nature,  on  whose  bosom  he  is  nursed,  he 
rises  upward  toward  his  origin,  up  toward  God ;  ever  approaching  God, 
but  remaining  eternally  a  son  and  child  of  God;  or,  on  the  other  hand, 
dropping  down  into  sin,  antagonizing  God's  will,  becoming  debased 
and  degraded,  drifts  away  from  God  forever. 


148 


ACTON  LECIURES. 


As  bodily  death  is  separation  of  soul  and  body,  so  spiritual  death 
is  a  separation  of  the  individual  soul  from  God. 

The  creation  of  man  is  the  last  and  crowning  act  of  God's  creative 
power.  He  closed  up  the  great  work  of  creation  by  sending  out  all 
those  forces,  energies  and  powers  that  distinguish  man  from  all  below 
him;  that  make  him  dominate  all  below  him;  those  elements  that  we 
call  intellect,  soul  and  the  moral  nature  of  man.  All  others  shall  cease 
to  exist  and  shall  end  in  man,  and  man  shall  pass  on  through  eternity, 
the  glory  of  God  and  the  consummation  of  His  powers. 

In  man  we  have  all  the  preceding  energies  and  forces.  We  have 
the  elements;  we  have  compounds  and  physical  and  chemical  laws  op- 
erating within  certain  limits,  the  servants  of  the  higher  nature  with 
which  he  is  endowed;  we  have  vitality;  we  have  sentient  life;  we  have 
instinct  and  the  animal  elements  of  man's  nature,  and  we  have,  crown- 
ing all,  the  soul;  the  reasoning  powers;  the  moral  nature;  the  sense  of 
right  and  wrong,  justice,  mercy,  love  and  truth;  the  glorious  image  of 
God.  Man  stands  related  to  all  creation  the  crowning  glory  of  all  cre- 
ation, and  when  death  cuts  loose  the  sands  that  tie  him  to  the  planes 
below  him,  he  soars  to  and  near  God,  or  drifts  forever  away  from  God, 
as  he  may  have  elected,  an  eternal,  individual  existence.  May  we  drift 
to  and  near  God. 


KNOWLEDGE  OI^GOD  IN  CHRIST. 

By  Rev.  Newton  Wray,  A.  M.,  Spiceland,  Ind. 


And  this  is  life  eternal,  that  they  might  know  Thee,  the  only  true  God,  and 
Jesus  Christ,  whom  Thou  hast  sent  — yohn  xvii,  3. 

In  religion,  knowledge  embraces  two  elements — theory  and  ex- 
perience. There  is,  strictly  speaking,  no  such  thing  as  theoretical 
religion.  This,  itself,  is  not  a  theory.  We  speak  of  the  different 
religions  of  the  world,  meaning  thereby  systems  of  belief.  But  the 
belief  which  constitutes  the  religion  goes  deeper  than  theory.  It 
strikes  to  the  heart  of  man,  and  thus  we  have  the  element  of  experi- 
ence. It  owes  its  origin  to  the  spiritual  nature ;  its  home  is  in  the  soul. 
The  various  false  systems' are  outgrowths  of  this  fact.  Human  nature 
demands  rehgion ;  and  if  this  want  be  not  met  in  the  right  way,  the 
soul  will  endeavor  some  how  to  meet  it,  and  will  evolve  a  belief,  how- 
ever false  and  pernicious. 

Christianity  is  the  Divine  answer  to  the  soul's  inquiry,  and  a 
knowledge  thereof  means  more  than  the  mere  theory,  which  is  but  the 
mental  assent.  This  is  the  first  step.  Theory  comes  from  the  head, 
experience  from  the  heart.  Theory  is  the  flower,  experience  the  fruit. 
The  former  is  the  intellectual,  the  latter  the  spiritual  element.  We  may 
have  the  former  and  yet  be  ignorant  of  spiritual  religion.  But  the 
latter  presupposes  and  includes  the  former,  hence  we  may  say  that 
the  knowledge  referred  to  in  the  text  is  that  ^'  full  experimental  know- 
ing, which,  being  commenced  by  the  believer  on  earth  is  consummated 
in  eternity." 

Alas  !  how  many,  for  the  lack  of  this  knowing,  have  not  the  life 
eternal.  They  accept  Christianity  as  a  theory.  The  proof  of  its  truth 
^convinces  the  judgment,  but  there  they  rest.  The  conscience  is  not 
rquickened,  the  affections  are  not  purified,  the  intellect  is  not  ennobled. 
They  have  the  theory  without  the  experience,  the  body  without  the 
soul ;  and  they  have  no  life. 

The  objects  of  this  knowledge  are  stated  to  be  the  only  true  God 
and  Jesus  Christ,  whom  He  hath  sent. 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


The  history  of  the  world  demonstrates  that  without  a  revelation, 
it  is  impossible  to  know  God.  When  the  light  of  the  Divine  presence 
was  withdrawn,  the  soul  of  man  was  filled  with  darkness.  The  fall 
darkened  his  mind  and  depraved  his  heart.  He  lost  his  knowledge  of 
God  because  he  lost  his  communion  with  him.  By  the  very  tendency 
of  his  fallen  nature  he  would  continually  get  further  from,  become 
more  ignorant  of  Him.  Simple  tradition  would  not  suffice  to  hold  in 
check  this  tendency,  and  at  the  same  time  his  religiousness  would  lead 
him  to  create  objects  of  worship.  Thus  the  primitive  belief,  which  de- 
pended for  its  existence  upon  tradition,  would  gradually  be  lost  or  so  ob- 
scured by  the  darkness  of  an  evil  imagination  that  it  would  not  amount  to 
any  certain  knowledge  of  the  Divine  Being.  Accordingly  we  find  that 
the  whole  world  was,  in  the  course  of  time,  given  up  to  ignorance  and 
idolatry.  In  this  condition  it  was  morally  impossible  for  men  to  find 
out  God,  especially  since  the  tendency,  as  just  remarked,  was  in  the 
opposite  direction.  If  it  be  said  that  the  minU  could  know  that  He 
exists  by  reason  and  the  works  of  creation,  the  facts  are  against  such  a 
theory.  The  reason  itself  is  darkened,  and  can  not  act  correctly  with- 
out the  light  of  revelation.  God  certainly  known  is  the  fundamental 
postulate  of  all  right  reasoning.  If  this  be  wanting,  how  can  the  mind 
arrive  at  any  definite  conclusions  concerning  Him  ?  It  seems  clear 
enough  to  us  that  His  existence  is  thus  shown.  But  we  have  the  light 
of  revelation  and  we  know  not  the  extent  and  power  of  its  influence 
on  our  thinking.  We  are  born  and  reared  under  it;  our  earliest 
thoughts  take  shape  from  its  silent,  unseen  moulding.  Those  who  had 
not  this  light,  failed  in  their  highest  forms  of  thought  to  attain  to  any 
knowledge  of  Him.  All  nations,  it  is  true,  believed  in  some  Supreme 
Power  or  Divinity,  to  which  human  nature  instinctively  felt  itself  ac- 
countable. And  this  belief  was  doubtless  a  product,  partly,  of  the 
yearning  in  the  soul,  and  of  the  mind's  reasoning  on  the  world  of 
nature,  but  who  or  what  that  Supreme  Power  was,  they  could  not  tell, 
as  their  mythologies,  their  superstitions  and  idolatries  plainly  evince. 
The  profoundest  heathen  philosophers  never  evolved  in  their  systems 
the  pure,  perfect  idea  of  God.  ''The  world  by  wisdom  knew  him 
not."  Nor  does  it  know  Him  by  wisdom  to-day.  Blot  from  your 
memory  what  you  know  of  Him  from  the  Bible  and  how  much  knowl- 
edge have  you  left  ?  Had  you  the  mind  of  Plato  your  reasoning  would 
go  no  further  than  his.  It  would  begin  and  end  in  uncertainty.  The  only 
nations  which  now  have  any  knowledge  of  Him  are  those  which  have 
obtained  it  from  the  Scriptures. 

Thus  is  established  the  necessity  of  a  revelation,  embodied  in  such 
.a  form  that  it  would  be  a  Jperpetual  light-house  to  the  souls  of  men ; 


i 


ACTON  LECTURES.  15  I 

an  eternal  standard  to  which  they  could  bring  their^conceptions,  and 
by  which  they  could  be  controlled. 

This  we  have  in  the  Bible.  Its  inception  was  at  the  call  of  Abra- 
ham, who  obeyed  the  voice  of  Jehovah,  and  became  the  father  of  a 
nation.  This  nation  God  subjected  to  a  course  of  discipline,  knit  to- 
gether, and  made  the  depository  of  His  truth.  Through  it  this  truth 
was  preserved,  developed,  and  the  way  prepared  for  its  universal 
dominion.  The  Jewish  Church  became  an  organized  fact,  and  in  its 
bosom  the  Divine  oracles  lay  secure  for  centuries,  uncorrupted  by  the 
idolatries  that  prevailed  around.  Meanwhile,  the  world  was  gradually 
preparing  for  the  reception  of  the  truth.  In  the  course  of  Divine  Provi- 
dence, the  Jews  were  brought  into  contact  with  various  nations,  but  not 
until  they  had  been  so  disciplined  and  indoctrinated  in  the  knowledge  of 
God,  that  they  could  not  lose  sight  of  Him,  and  so  they  carried  with 
them  those  Divine  ideas  which  slowly,  but  surely,  found  their  way  into 
the  thought  and  language  of  the  people  among  whom  they  dwelt.  By 
the  conquests  of  Alexander,  and  the  spread  of  the  Greek  language,  an- 
other marvelous  step  in  this  preparation  was  taken,  for  this  language 
became  the  channel  in  which  the  stream  of  Divine  ideas  was  to  flow. 
Wherever  this  stream  coursed  its  way,  men  drank  of  its  water  and  new 
life  throbbed  in  their  souls.  Hope  sprang  up,  and  faith  in  better  things 
to  come  was  born.  The  subjection  of  the  known  world  to  one  tem- 
poral authority  was  another  condition  for  the  quick  spread  of  the  truth. 

Thus,  in  His  own  way,  God  was  getting  all  things  ready  for  the 
perfect  disclosure  of  Himself.  That  which  He  made  to  the  Jews  was, 
from  necessity,  partial ;  but  a  beginning  and  a  preparation.  He  first 
revealed  His  existence,  then,  by  a  process  of  education.  He  prepared 
their  minds  for  the  conception  of  His  hoHness  and  justice.  But  that 
conception  lacked  completeness,  and  of  his  other  attributes  they  had 
very  imperfect  ideas.  The  inspired  writers  rose  to  a  much  higher  idea 
of  the  Divine  character,  because  they  saw  something  of  the  glory  that 
was  revealed  ''in  the  fullness  of  time."  But  the  people  had  need  of 
a  better  teacher  than  the  law  which  must  then  cease.  While  the 
depository  would  fail,  the  truth  itself  would  shine  brighter  and  be  more 
clearly  seen  by  reason  of  the  increased  light  that  would  gather  around 
it  and  the  new  form  it  would  assume. 

The  progress  of  revelation,  under  the  old  dispensation,  was  like 
the  gradual  advance  from  darkness  to  sunrise.  There  are  first  the 
faintest  streaks  of  white,  dappling  the  sky;  twilight  appears,  merging 
into  dawn ;  the  horizon  reddens,  beams  of  fire  flash  up,  and  the  burn- 
ing sun  bursts  upon  the  vision  in  unclouded  splendor.  Thus  the  ey? 
is  prepared  for  the  blaze  of  day.    So  was  it  in  the  advance  from  the 


152 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


darkness  of  human  apostasy  to  the  glorious  day  of  perfect  revelation, 
the  first  streaky  of  which  began  to  break  the  gloom  at  the  call  of  Abra- 
ham. The  dawn  came  with  the  Jewish  economy ;  the  skies  began  to 
redden  with  the  first  notes  of  prophecy;  rays  of  brightness  beamed 
forth  telling  of  the  effulgence  that  should  follow,  until  the  Son  of 
Righteousness  arose  to  fill  the  earth  with  His  glory.  • 

We  see  how  the  mind's  eye  was  educated  to  endure  the  light  of 
this  sun.  It  could  not  behold  the  full-orbed  splendor  at  once.  At  first 
it  saw  the  existence  of  God;  it  was  soon  enabled  to  look  at  some  of 
His  attributes,  but  it  could  not  compass  them  as  yet,  nor  discern  plainly 
His  declared  purposes;  greater  light  gave  it  clearer  vision,  but  not  until 
the  sun  rose  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ,  himself  the  perfect  revela- 
tion, could  it  behold  the  meaning  and  greatness  of  the  Divne  character 
and  purposes. 

There  is  said  to  be  in  Rome  a  beautiful  fresco,  by  Guido,  ''The 
Aurora."  It  covers  a  lofty  ceiling.  Looking  up  at  it  from  below 
your  neck  grows  stiff,  your  head  dizzy,  and  the  figures  indistinct.  The 
owner  of  the  palace  has  placed  a  broad  mirror  near  the  floor.  Looking 
into  this  mirror  you  can  see  the  fresco  that  is  above  you  with  perfect  dis- 
tinctness and  enjoy  the  sight  without  weariness  or  dizziness.  So,  other- 
wise unattainable  celestial  truth  has  been  brought  down  to  us  through 
Jesus  Christ.  In  Him  as  in  a  glass  we  behold  the  glory  and  truth  and 
grace  of  God.  He  is  "the  brightness  of  His  glory  and  the  express 
image  of  His  person."  Like  that  mirror  beneath  the  "Aurora,"  He 
reflects  all  the  excellencies  of  the  Divine  character.  He  is  the  end 
and  perfection  of  all  revelation.  Only  through  Him,  therefore,  can 
men  know  God.  Hence  he  prays  that  they  should  know  Him.  He 
is  "the  way,  the  truth  and  the  life."  Comprehensive  utterance!  It 
shows  that  "all  things  pertaining  to  man's  life,  present  and  future,  to 
his  salvation  and  spiritual  interests  in  time  and  eternity,  are  connected 
with  His  person  and  manifestation,"  and  that  "nothing  beyond  Him 
has  any  vital  concern  for  mankind."  Containing  in  Himself  all  that  is 
worth  knowing,  our  knowledge  must  be  of  Him. 

I.  We  are  to  know  Him  as  Teacher.  He  taught  with  authority. 
There  is  in  all  His  words  an  absolute  finality.  They  are  the  springs 
from  which  others  draw.  Neither  before  nor  after  Him  is  there  another 
who  hath  the  "  words  of  eternal  life."  He  is  the  life.  He  alone  gave 
truth  its  sanction.  Himself  is  the  truth.  The  human  conscience  will 
act  only  under  His  teaching.  This  is  true  even  in  ethics.  And 
here  is  the  answer  to  those  who  seek  to  derogate  His  teaching 
b^  asserting  that  others,  before  He  taught,  enjoined  His  precepts. 
Granting  this,  what  was  the  effect  of  such  injunction?     If  men 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


could  discover  a  perfect  rule  of  conduct  among  themselves,  it  would 
have  no  power  to  bind  the  conscience  which  will  not  recognize  any 
system  of  ethics,  however  perfect,  that  comes  from  merely  human 
sources.  It  acts  only  under  the  sanction  of  Divine  authority,  and 
where  the  belief  of  this  is  wanting  the  precept  amounts  to  nothing  so 
far  as  having  any  restraining  or  reformatory  effect  is  concerned.  Some 
of  the  ancient  precepts  sound  very  much  like  some  of  Jesus;  but  the 
people  looked  upon  them  as  things  spoken  by  ?nen,  their  equals,  and  they 
could  obey  them  or  not  just  as  they  pleased,  as  it  made  no  difference 
in  the  matter  of  obligation.  Now,  Jesus  first  gave  ethics  the  sanction 
of  Divine  authority,  and  hence,  then,  the  conscience  felt  its  obligation. 
A  precept  was  to  be  obeyed  because  it  came  from  God,  and  the  soul 
obeyed  because  it  beHeved  this.  Thus,  after  all,  is  Jesus  the  true 
teacher  of  morals.  There  are,  however,  many  things  set  forth  among 
His  precepts  that  had  no  place  in  the  thought  of  the  ancients.  The 
command,  "Love  your  enemies;  bless  them  that  curse  you;  do  good 
to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  them  which  despitefully  use  you 
and  persecute  you,"  was  not  a  part  of  their  teaching.  Their  ideas  of 
right  never  took  that  form  of  expression.  But  this  thought  is  con- 
nected with  higher  reflections  than  those  which  pertain  simply  to  the 
precepts  of  morality.  The  ancients  never  went  beyond  these.  The 
great  realm  of  Divine  truth  lay  hid.  Jesus  came  to  teach  the  world 
what  was  in  that  realm.  He  taught  truths  of  which  it  had  scarcely 
dreamed. 

Let  us  notice  some  of  the  distinctive  features  of  His  teaching. 

He  taught  the  personality  of  God.  The  pagans  thought  of  Him  as 
a  blind  force  or  Supreme  Power,  or  they  represented  Him  under  some 
abstract  principle  or  object  of  creation.  No  where  did  the  idea  of  Him 
as  a  personal  being  exist,  except  in  Judaism,  which  was  not  adapted  to 
become  an  universal  religion.  Arist  was  its  first  teacher  to  the  race. 
He  flooded  it  with  light  and  brought  it  nearer  the  apprehension,  by 
bringing  into  clearer  view  the  Divine  attributes  and  character. 

He  taught  the  character  of  God  perfectly.  It  now  shone  forth  in  all 
its  glory.  The  doctrine  that  God  is  a  Father,  while  more  or  less  im- 
plied in  the  Old  Testament  writings,  was  never  distinctly  enunciated 
until  He  came.  It  was  not  even  the  dream  of  paganism.  When  he 
told  His  disciples  to  pray  *'Our  Father,"  He  taught  a  great  and 
blessed  truth  to  all  men,  who  should  thenceforth  be  inspired  and  lifted 
up  by  the  thought  of  a  Father  who  watches  over  His  children  and 
numbers  the  very  hairs  of  their  heads.  It  brought  a  consolation  which 
the  mind  had  never  conceived,  and  the  heart  never  experienced. 


154 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


The  Fatherhood  of  God  meant  the  brotherhood  of  man.  This 
would  have  be^n  a  strange  idea  to  the  sages  of  antiquity,  who  had  only 
contempt  for  the  ignorant  and  lowly.  It  was  so  to  the  Greeks,  who 
regarded  all  the  rest  of  mankind  as  barbarians;  and  to  the  Romans, 
who  recognized  no  tie  but  citizenship;  and  to  the  Jews,  who  held  other 
men  in  detestation,  and  thought  themselves  alone  worthy  of  Divine 
compassion.  It  was  ignorance  of  this  glorious  doctrine  that  every- 
where debased  woman,  whose  exaltation  came  only  at  the  hands  of 
Jesus.  It  was  this,  too,  that_,  through  all  the  dark  eras  of  the  past, 
formed  the  excuse  for  slavery  and  made  it  so  brutal.  Before  Christ 
the  slave  was  held  to  be  of  less  value  than  the  land  or  cattle.  Under 
His  teachings  the  dignity  of  manhood  was  placed  upon  the  slave,  and 
the  priceless  value  of  his  soul  made  known.  God  was  the  Father, 
Christ  was  the  Master  of  slave  and  master,  and  they  were  brethren. 
This  doctrine  is  unknown  to-day  wherever  Christianity  has  not  gone. 
It  finds  no  recognition  among  individuals  who  reject  the  teachings  of 
Christ.  And  the  soul  that  does  not  experience  the  virtue  of  a  living 
faith  can  never  feel  its  power.  The  fire  of  universal  philanthropy  does 
not  glow  in  it.  That  every  man  is  a  brother  is  a  statement,  not  a 
burning  reality.  As  in  the  days  of  Christ,  the  pharisee  scorned  the 
pubhcan  and  sinner,  so  now,  men  who  have  not  been  filled  with  the 
spirit  of  his  teachings,  know  nothing  of  the  precious  sentiment  of 
brotherhood.  They  live  by  self.  Rank,  creed,  or  relationship  is  the 
tie  that  binds,  the  motive  that  actuates  them.  Thus  the  wise  ignore 
the  ignorant,  the  high  the  lowly,  the  rich  the  poor,  and  men  of  one 
creed  or  party  spurn  those  of  another,  or  none.  They  know  not  the 
Father  or  they  would  know  their  brother.  Once  let  this  truth  become 
an  experience,  and  the  soul  feels  no  bounds  to  its  benevolence  and 
love.  It  cheers  the  weak,  lifts  up  the  fallen  and  brings  in  the  outcast. 
Its  voice  is  heard  among  the  neglect^,  and  its  prayer  of  love  ascends 
from  the  home  of  the  humble.  Mountains  and  seas,  disease  and  death 
stay  it  not.  Wherever  a  soul  is  sick  or  in  trouble  and  needs  help,  or 
naked  and  needs  clothes,  or  hungry  and  wants  bread,  or  is  in  darkness 
and  cries  for  light,  there  is  a  brother,  and  it  goes  with  heaHng  in  its 
wings.  Under  its  heavenly  ministrations,  life  flushes  with  vigor,  joy 
chases  away  sorrow,  hope  stops  the  wail  of  despair,  and  light  scatters 
the  darkness.  This  is  the  key  to  the  lives  of  John  Howard  and 
Florence  Nightingale,  and  of  thousands  living  and  dead,  who  did  and 
do  count  all  things  but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  this  knowledge.  It  is 
a  tie  stronger  than  blood,  dearer  than  relationship.  Does  not  the  cause 
of  missions  owe  to  it  much  of  its  strength  ?  The  heathen  is  my  brother; 
he  is  perishing  for  the  water  of  life.    Every  impulse  of  my  soul,  and 


ACTON   LECTURES.  155 

conscience  loudest  of  all,  cries  out,  ''save  thy  brother!"  And  do 
you  not  see  how  it  underlies  all  that  is  good  in  society  and  govern- 
ment? The  more  it  is  recognized  and  felt  in  the  constitution  and 
workings  of  a  government  the  more  successful  and  stable  it  is.  And 
the  more  society  enjoys  its  influence  the  greater  is  its  harmony  and 
progress.  All  civil  and  social  history  since  the  advent  of  Christianity 
proves  the  truth  of  these  propositions.  What  is  discord  but  the  result 
of  selfishness?  a  thing  that  can  not  co-exist  with  brotherly  love.  Its 
general  expression  is  war,  which  will  cease,  as  prophecy  foretold,  when 
all  men  shall  obey  the  voice  of  the  heavenly  Teacher.  The  great 
evils  of  society  that  blight  so  many  fair  fields  of  promise,  that  destroy 
so  much  life  and  joy  and  character,  are  but  the  proof  of  "man's  in- 
humanity to  man."  When  the  principles  of  the  Gospel  shall  become 
imbedded  in  its  laws  and  customs,  and  shall  constitute  the  vital  force 
of  thought  and  sentiment  back  of  these,  the  gracious  fruits  of  brother- 
hood will  be  everywhere  and  always  manifest.  To  this  end  the  teach- 
ing of  Jesus  must  begin  with  the  individual  life.  Its  progress  is  through 
the  individual  to  society.  The  promise  and  potency  of  the  greatest 
good  lie  here.  To  everyone  there  opens  here  the  widest  field  of  devel- 
opment. It  is  the  ground  of  all  true  greatness.  Upon  it  life  and 
thought  build  their  everlasting  monuments.  No  matter  what  direction 
a  man  may  give  his  life's  energies,  the  master-purpose  of  that  life  be- 
comes, under  its  influence,  the  benefit  of  his  fellow-men.  He  is  the 
perfect  man  who  realizes  in  his  soul  and  shows  in  his  life  its  signifi- 
cance and  power.  Would  you,  then,  be  a  perfect  man?  Would  you 
be  thrilled  with  the  grandeur  of  real  greatness  and  fill  the  largest  sphere 
of  usefulness  and  honor?  Go  to  him  who  taught  us  to  say  "Our 
Father;"  learn  that  sublime  truth;  appropriate  it  by  faith;  let  it  become 
a  part  of  your  being;  and,  whatever  your  lot,  doing  the  most  for  God 
and  humanity,  you  will  be  great — great  in  manhood,  great  in  good- 
ness, great  in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven. 

The  disclosure  of  God  as  a  Father  brought  into  brighter  view  His 
mercy,  goodness  and  love.  Under  the  law  His  justice  and  holiness 
had  the  greatest  prominence.  His  mercy  and  love  are  oftentimes  the 
theme  of  the  prophets.  But  their  depths  are  not  sounded.  The 
"light  of  the  world"  revealed  their  greatness  and  glory.  "  For  the 
law  was  given  through  Moses;  grace  and  truth  came  through  Jesus 
Christ."  The  law  meant  the  thunders  of  Sinai;  grace  and  truth  meant 
the  benefits  of  Calvary;  the  cross  is  the  highest  revelation  of  God's 
character.  It  was  reserved  for  the  New  Dispensation  to  unfold  that 
"God  is  love."  It  was  Jesus  who  taught  that  "God  so  loved  the  world 
that  He  gave  His  only  begotten  Son  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him 


156 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


should  not  perish  but  have  eternal  hfe."  And  when  He  laid  down  His 
life  as  its  Savior  it  comprehended  the  depth  of  that  love.  Men  could 
come  to  God  with  confidence  after  such  an  exhibition  of  mercy  and  grace. 
There  is  a  beautiful  story  in  ancient  poetry  of  a  great  warrior,  clad  in 
fierce-looking  armor,  frightening  his  child,  as  he  stretched  out  his  arms 
to  embrace  it  before  going  to  the  field  of  battle.  The  father  unbound 
his  glittering  helmet,  laid  aside  his  armor  and  came  to  his  child  with 
outstretched  arms  and  tender  words  of  love.  And  the  child  shrank 
back  no  longer  but  ran  to  his  arms,  pillowed  its  head  upon  his  bosom 
and  received  his  parting  embrace  and  kiss.  So  men  are  afraid  of  God 
in  His  majesty  and  terribleness.  The  thought  of  His  omnipotence,  His 
holiness  and  the  awfulness  of  His  justice  causes  them  to  shrink  back 
from  Him.  But  as  that  father  laid  aside  his  terrifying  armor  and  came 
to  his  child  in  all  the  tenderness  of  parental  affection,  so  God  veils  His 
majesty  and  awfulness,  and  reveals  Himself  to  His  children  under  the 
sweetest  aspect  of  love. 

Jesus  taught^  also,  the  nature  and  demerit  of  sin.  The  ancients  had 
no  conception  of  si7i.  The  idea  that  it  was  the  transgression  of  the 
law  of  a  holy,  p^sonal  Being,  who  condemned  it  in  the  heart,  never 
developed  itself  in  their  minds.  Says  Geike:  "There  is  no  word  in 
Greek  for  what  we  mean  by  it;  the  expression  for  it  was  synonymous 
with  physical  evil.  Either  there  was  no  guilt  or  the  deity  was  to  blame, 
or  the  action  was  irresistible."  And  all  the  religious  rites,  prayers  and 
festivals  of  priests  and  people  were  for  the  removal  of  physical,  not 
moral,  defilement.  And  they  thought  this  removal  was  effected,  though 
the  consciousness  of  evil  inclinations  still  remained.  The  Romans 
were  as  ignorant  as  the  Greeks  of  the  nature  of  sin.  They  confounded 
God  and  nature,  and  regarded  man  as  the  equal  or  superior  of  God. 
Seneca  taught  that  the  divine  nature  reached  perfection  only  in  man, 
whose  virtues  were  the  following  of  nature,  and  whose  vices  were  only 
madness.  Judaism  went  to  the  act  rather  than  the  thought  of  sin.  If  there 
was  no  outward  act  there  was  no  sin,  however  wicked  the  thought  or  strong 
the  volition.  How  different  from  this  was  the  teaching  of  Jesus  !  He 
lodged  sin  in  the  heart,  and  the  commandment  was  violated  even 
though  no  act  was  put  forth.  Whoever  hated  his  brother  was  a  mur- 
derer, and  he  that  lusted  had  already  committed  adultery.  In  the 
light  of  such  teaching  how  awful  becomes  the  holiness  of  God,  and 
how  impotent  seems  any  system  of  mere  morality!  Though  some 
philosopher  did  lay  down  a  list  of  moral  precepts,  as  a  rule  of  conduct, 
before  Christ,  to  observe  them  amounted  only  to  outward  conformity. 
It  was  not  sin  to  refuse  to  do  so,  and  conscience  did  not  condemn  a 
violation  of  them.    But  Jesus  taught  it  was  sin,  and  under  His  teach- 


ACTON  LECWRES. 


ing  the  conscience  acts.  The  very  secrets  of  the  heart  are  laid  open 
and  judged.  The  sinner  sees  the  infinite  holiness  of  God  and  his  own 
exceeding  sinfulness,  and  the  sight  appals  him;  but  he  looks  to  Him 
who  has  thus  taught  him  his  condition,  and  beholds  in  Him,  as  Savior, 
that  divine  mercy  and  love  which  bids  him  rejoice  in  the  forgiveness  of 
sin.  A  traveler  tells  of  a  flaming  globe  of  fire  which  he  saw,  "mag- 
nificent, indeed,  but  too  terrible  for  the  eye  to  rest  upon,  if  its  beams 
had  been  naked  and  exposed ;  but  it  was  suspended  in  a  vase  of  crystal 
so  transparent  that  while  it  softened  the  intensity  of  its  rays  it  shrouded 
nothing  of  its  beauty.  On  the  contrary,  what  before  would  have  been 
a  mass  of  undistinguishable  light,  now  emitted  through  the  vase  many 
beautiful  and  various  colored  rays  which  riveted  the  beholder  with 
wonder  and  astonishment."  Such  is  God  manifested  in  Christ.  Out 
of  Christ  he  meets  the  affrighted  sinner's  eye  as  a  "consuming  fire." 

2.  We  are  to  know  Jesus  as  a  Savior.  Having  taught  the  char- 
acter of  sin,  He  became  the  propitiation  therefor.  Man  was  no  longer 
to  depend  on  the  supposed  magic  of  rites  and  ceremonies;  to  remove 
the  defilement,  which  still  remained  to  cloud  his  life  and  destroy  his 
happiness.  With  a  perfect  knowledge  of  sin  came  also  its  perfect  cure. 
And  now  the  soul  that  sees  its  vileness,  sees  also  the  efficacy  of  the 
Cross.  Looking  into  its  depths,  it  is  startled  at  the  distance  between 
it  and  purity  and  peace  and  God.  It  cries  for  succor  and  the  arm  of 
mercy  lifts  it  into  the  pure  atmosphere  of  redeeming  love,  when  a  song 
of  deliverance  bursts  forth  in  praise  of  its  Savior.  Thus  the  Divme 
Teacher,  in  revealing  the  true  condition  of  the  heart,  arouses  and  in- 
tensifies the  consciousness  of  the  want  of  Him  as  a  Savior.  To  know 
Him  as  such,  is  the  highest  and  most  blessed  knowledge  the  soul  can 
have.  By  it  the  soul  is  brought  into  harmony  with  God ;  in  which 
relation  the  intellect  has  clearer  apprehension,  the  conscience  greater 
tenderness,  the  will  holier  inclinations.  It  raises  the  mind  into  a  state 
of  activity  to  which  it  could  never  otherwise  attain — a  state  that  means 
the  freedom  and  perfect  manifestation  of  all  its  powers.  This  does  not 
exist  when  they  are  in  bondage  to  sin.  To  enjoy  the  highest  degree  of 
happy  activity,  the  mind  must  be  free  from  the  consciousness  of  sin. 
The  will  has  here  its  highest  freedom,  and  acts  with  the  happiest  results. 
The  heart,  made  pure,  becomes  a  well-spring  of  noble  emotions,  which 
issues  in  blessings  to  all  around.  Thus,  the  mind  and  heart,  being 
blest,  bless  others,  free  and  happy,  their  influence  is  to  make  others  so. 
Life  becomes  a  harmonious  development.  Thought,  feefing  and  voli- 
tion become  instruments  of  Divine  grace  to  elevate  society.  Sanctified 
ability,  Christly  affection,  and  their  blessed  manifestations,  will  ever 
challenge  the  attention  and  move  the  hearts  of  men.    The  knowledge 


ACtON  LfeCTURESi 


that  thus  saves  and  blesses  is  to  be  had  only  by  experience.  We  know 
we  are  sinners  by  experience,  answering  to  the  disclosure  of  the  Bible. 
It  is  the  deep  feeling  of  sin  in  the  soul  that  speaks  the  need  and  urges 
to  the  answer  of  that  need  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Hence  the  knowl- 
edge of  Him  as  our  Savior  is  the  experience  of  His  saving  power.  We 
may  believe  in  His  mission  and  ability  to  save,  and  yet  know  nothing  of 
His  salvation.  Saving  knowledge  is  the  result  of  faith.  Only  when  the 
soul,  through  faith,  feels  the  regenerating  and  sanctifying  presence  of  His 
Holy  Spirit,  does  it  know  Him  as  one  who  ever  lives  and  ever  saves. 
Such  an  experience  gives  us  a  sweeter  view  of  the  love  and  goodness 
of  God.  It  enables  us  to  see  the  strength  of  the  great  truth  of  the 
Fatherhood  of  God  and  the  brotherhood  of  man.  It  gives  us  grander 
ideas  of  human  life  and  destiny.  We  see  our  relations  to  God  and 
mankind  as  we  should  see  them,  and  we  press  toward  the  mark  for  the 
prize  of  our  high  calling.  And  as  we  go  forward  in  the  march  for 
eternity,  we  herald  the  "good  tidings  of  great  joy"  to  the  lost  multi- 
tudes around  us.  Thus  the  mission  of  every  redeemed  man  in  this 
world  of  time  is  to  save  for  eternity  as  many  of  his  brothers  as  he  can. 
One  evening  two  soldiers  were  placed  as  sentries  at  the  opposite  ends 
of  a  sally-port,  or  long  passage,  leading  from  the  rock  of  Gibraltar  to 
to  the  Spanish  territory.  One  of  them  was  rejoicing  in  the  love  of  God, 
while  the  other  was  in  a  state  of  deep  anxiety,  being  under  strong  con- 
victions of  sin,  and  earnestly  seeking  deliverance  from  the  load  of 
guilt  that  pressed  upon  his  conscience.  On  the  evening  alluded  to 
one  of  the  officers,  who  had  been  out  dining,  was  returning  to  the  gar- 
rison at  a  late  hour,  and  coming  up  to  the  converted  sentry,  he  asked, 
as  usual,  for  the  watchword.  The  man,  absorbed  in  meditation  on  the 
things  of  God,  and  filled  with  devout  love  and  gratitude,  on  being 
suddenly  aroused  from  his  reverie,  replied  to  the  officer's  challenge 
with  the  words:  ''The  precious  blood  of  Christ."  Soon  recovering 
his  self-possession,  however,  he  gave  the  usual  watchword.  But  his 
comrade,  who  was  anxiously  seeking  the  Lord,  and  who  was  stationed 
at  the  other  end  of  the  passage,  heard  the  words,  ''the  precious  blood 
of  Christ,"  mysteriously  borne  upon  the  breeze  at  the  solemn  hour  of 
midnight.  They  came  home  to  his  heart  as  a  voice  from  heaven ; 
the  load  of  guilt  was  removed,  and  the  precious  blood  of  Christ  spoke 
peace  to  the  soul  of  the  sin-burdened  soldier.  So,  my  young  friends, 
acquaint  yourselves  with  Jesus,  and,  as  you  go  through  life,  let  your 
watchword  be:  "The  precious  blood  of  Christ."  Whatever  and 
wherever  your  lots  may  be,  let  it  sound  from  your  lips,  let  it  speak 
through  your  lives,  and  the  breeze  of  Divine  mercy  will  bear  it  to  sin- 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


*59 


troubled  souls,  you  know  not  how  many,  that  shall  find  joy  and 
peace  in  deliverance  from  sin. 

3.  We  are  to  know  Christ  as  our  Exemplar.  He  is  the 
perfect  pattern.  The  sages  of  antiquity,  and  the  great  leaders  in  the 
world's  history  pale  into  insignificance  before  Him.  Their  characters 
show  flaws,  His  is  spotless;  theirs  mislead.  His  is  the  sure  mark  for 
the  attainment  of  perfection;  theirs  may  be  surpassed.  His  stands  out 
in  matchless  splendor,  unsurpassed  and  unsurpassable.  And  His  life 
was  but  its  expression.  His  teaching  was  everywhere  confirmed  and 
hallowed  by  His  example.  We  can  not  separate  the  Teacher  from  the 
Exemplar.  To  aspire  to  be  like  Him  is  the  sublimest  aim  of  the  soul ; 
to  follow  Him  is  to  be  a  perfect  man  and  a  perfect  Christian.  See 
how  many  dwarfs  in  character,  how  many  stumbling,  halting,  weak 
professors  of  religion  there  are,  because  they  do  not  follow  the  Great 
Exemplar.  How  many  know  not  the  way  of  peace,  because  they  look 
to  some  imperfect  Christian  instead  of  to  Christ,  who  alone  ought  to  be 
their  example  ?  With  your  eyes  and  hearts  fixed  on  Him,  you  can 
not  fall.  Following  Him,  the  world  will  behold  you  and  own  His 
supremacy.  There  will  be  a  Christliness  in  the  word,  and  in  the  ac- 
tion, that  will  strike  its  way  to  the  hearts  of  your  associates,  and  cause 
them  to  long  for  your  purity  and  happiness.  A  certain  gentleman  re- 
lates how  he  was  brought  to  Christ.  He  boarded  at  the  same  house 
with  a  Christian,  whose  whole  life  was  a  heavenly  benediction.  The 
man  said  nothing  to  him  on  the  subject  of  religion,  but  the  silent 
preaching  of  his  life  was  irresistible.  "His  presence,"  says  the  gen- 
tleman, "  was  a  constant  sermon  to  me,  and  made  me  feel  uneasy  and 
condemned.  I  saw  he  had  a  happiness  which  I  did  not  have.  And 
there  was  such  a  sweetness  about  his  whole  demeanor  that  I  felt  dissat- 
isfied with  myself,  and  I  could  not  rest  until  I  became  a  Christian." 
Go  ye  and  do  likewise.  Follow  Christ  and  your  lives  will  be  full  of 
fragrance ;  a  benediction  to  society ;  a  magnet  of  attraction ;  a  star  of 
hope  to  many  a  poor  wanderer. 

I  have  presented  Jesus  in  the  light  of  Teacher,  Savior  and  Exem- 
plar, and  have  all  along  pre-supposed  a  belief  in  His  divinity.  Any 
view  that  depreciates  this  fails  to  meet  the  highest  expectations  of  the 
soul.  Its  needs  can  not  be  satisfied  by  a  man,  however  exalted  in 
character.  It  is  the  divinity  of  our  Lord  that  speaks  in  the  authority 
of  His  teaching,  that  gives  efficacy  to  His  blood  to  save,  and  that  ex- 
alts Him  as  Exemplar.  We  listen  to  a  Divine  Teacher,  we  rejoice  in 
a  Divine  Savior,  and  we  are  guided  by  an  Example  which,  though  per- 
fect as  human,  was  sinless  through  divinity.  How  grand  the  contempla- 
tion, how  exalted  the  idea  that  raises  itself  to  the  height  of  this  Divine 


i6o 


ACION  LECtURES. 


Man,  and  how  glorious  the  manhood  that  has  its  perfect  development 
in  the  knowledge  of  Him !  In  the  humble,  yet  willing  and  happy 
subjection  of  ourselves  to  him,  would  we  say,  with  the  poet : 

"Strong  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love, 
•   Whom  we,  that  have  not  seen  Thy  face, 
By  faith,  and  faith  alone  embrace. 
Believing  where  we  can  not  prove. 

"Thou  seemest  human  and  divine — 
The  highest,  holiest  manhood  Thou; 
Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how — 
Our  wills  are  ours  to  make  them  Thine." 

And  this  is  life  eternal.  Natural  immortality  is  not  meant.  The 
wicked  have  that  as  well  as  the  righteous.  The  soul  is  naturally  immor- 
tal, and  will  live  on  though  forever  dead.  Eternal  life  is  the  soul's  eternal 
happiness  and  right  development.  It  is  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul. 
The  withdrawal  of  the  Divine  Spirit  as  the  bond  of  union  between  God 
and  the  soul  produces  spiritual  death.  The  soul  no  longer  has  fellow- 
ship with  its  Maker,  and  no  longer  reflects  His  holiness.  Self  becomes 
the  ruling  principle  of  life.  As  Dr.  Pope  expresses  it:  "The  Hfe 
and  activity  of  self,  or  selfishness  in  all  its  forms,  is  the  death  of  the 
soul.  Hence  the  process  of  recovery  from  that  death  is  the  return  of 
the  spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus  when  the  I  no  longer  lives."  This  is 
happiness  and  it  is  abiding.  There  is  no  happiness  in  sin.  "There  is 
no  peace,"  saith  my  God,  "to  the  wicked."  When  self  is  dead  and 
God  lives  in  the  soul,  the  pleasures  of  the  world  seem  the  sheerest  van- 
ity, and  we  turn  from  them  to  bathe  in  the  pure  rivers  of  pleasure  that 
flow  through  the  life  of  faith.  The  true  happiness  is  that  which  springs 
from  the  sacrifice  of  self.  Does  not  that  of  God,  I  ask,  reverently, 
consist  in  the  sacrifice  of  Himself?  His  life  is  a  continual  giving  ofl", 
a  constant  self-impartation  for  the  benefit  of  His  creatures.  It  must 
be  so  with  them.  The  selfish  man  can  not  be  happy.  When  the  soul 
can  not  feel  the  jar  of  self  in  its  motions— when  it  loves  to  be  the  ser- 
vant of  others — it  is  happy.  Here  is  the  secret  of  the  vast  amount  of 
unrest  among  people.  Self  leada  them  to  covet  some  other  sphere  of 
influence,  and  to  neglect  to  act  in  the  one  in  which  Providence  places 
them;  or  they  care  not  so  much  for  the  weal  of  others  or  for  the  glory 
of  God  as  they  are  anxious  to  secure  recognition  of  their  own  import- 
ance. It  is  no  wonder  they  do  nothing  for  God  and  are  miserable. 
There  are  some  who,  if  they  can't  do  what  they  imagine  to  be  great 
things  for  Christ,  won't  do  anything.  Happy  for  them  could  they 
learn  that  the  little  things  are  great  in  the  estimation  of  Him  who  pro- 
nounced a  blessing  on  the  giving  "only  a  cup  of  cold  water"  in  His 


I 


ACTON   LECTURES.  l6l 

name,  tt  has  been  well  remarked:  -'Notoriety  is  not  essential  to  in- 
fluence, and  in  the  sphere  of  the  soul,  as  in  the  order  of  nature,  fountains 
are  not  the  less  abundant  because  their  streams  are  hidden  in  obscurity;'" 

"The  noblest  seifvice  comes  from  nameless  hands^ 
And  the  best  servant  does  his  work  unseen." 

When  the  "life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God''  all  things  are  great;  "1 
have  no  more  influence,-"  said  one,  "than  a  farthing  rushlight."  "WqII^ 
that  is  a  good  deal,"  replied  another;  "a  rushlight  will  set  fire  to  a 
whole  city;  it  will  light  a  man's  way  in  the  dark.  Go,  let  your  farthing 
rushlight  so  shine  before  men  that  they  may  see  your  good  works  and 
glorify  your  heavenly  Father."  Noiselessly  the  sunbeams  fall  upon 
the  earth.  You  hear  nothing,  you  see  no  operation,  yet  the  rose 
glows  with  beauty  and  the  earth  teems  with  its  harvests.  And  as  si- 
lently as  those  sunbeams  fall  are  they  absorbed  by  the  plants  and  vege- 
tation, being  necessary  for  the  condensation  of  carbon.  The  accumu- 
lated masses  are  buried  by  the  hand  of  nature  in  the  bosom  of  the 
earth,  only  to  be  discovered  and  brought  forth  in  after  ages,  and  that 
sunlight  again  liberated  to  warm  and  cheer  our  homes,  to  traverse  the 
continents  and  plow  the  seas,  bearing  everywhere  blessing  and  comfort 
to  men.  So  may  the  pure  light  of  your  influence  fall  upon  those  about 
you,  and,  though  the  world  may  not  see  it,  yet  minds  and  hearts  will 
absorb  that  light,  and  characters  will  be  formed,  lives  will  be  shaped 
by  its  unseen  power,  and  in  after  years  the  fruit  will  appear  to  make 
glad  the  hearts  of  many.  Thus  living  the  greatest  good  will  be 
achieved  and  the  greatest  happiness  experienced. 

"Thrice  blest,  whose  lives  are  faithful  prayers, 
Whose  loves  in  higher  love  endure  ; 
What  souls  possess  themselves  so  pure, 
Or  is  there  blessedness  like  theirs?  " 

I  said  this  eternal  life  meant  also  right  development.  This  is  im- 
possible where  self  is  the  ruling  principle.  The  noble  powers  of  the 
soul  are  blighted  by  the  mildew  of  selfishness.  They  develop  perfectly 
only  in  the  atmosphere  of  Divine  love.  For  there  their  progress  is 
eternally  toward  the  perfection  of  God.  Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  de- 
scribes an  interesting  sight  he  once  saw  above  one  of  the  crags  of  Ben 
Nevis.  Two  parent  eagles  were  teaching  their  offsprings,  two  young 
birds,  the  maneuvers  of  flight.  They  began  by  rising  from  the  top  of 
a  mountain  in  the  eye  of  the  sun.  They  at  first  made  small  circles, 
and  the  young  birds  imitated  them.  They  paused  on  their  wings 
till  these  had  made  their  first  flight,  so  as  to  make  a  gradually  extend- 
11 


l62 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


ing  spiral.  The  young  ones  still  slowly  followed,  apparently  flying 
better  as  they  mounted.  And  they  continued  this  sublime  kind  of 
exercise,  always  rising,  till  they  became  mere  points  in  the  air  and  the 
young  ones  were  lost,  and  afterwards  the  parents,  to  his  aching  sight. 
Such,  in  some  respects,  is  the  rise  of  the  soul  in  its  eternal  develop- 
ment. Looking  to  the  Divine  Christ,  who  calls  it  on  and  up,  it  rises 
on  the  wings  of  faith,  continually  enlarging  the  circle  of  its  sweep,  and 
chanting,  as  it  mounts,  its  sublime  song  of  holy  aspiration  and  triumph. 

"  Higher,  higher,  every  thought 
More  ir)to  His  presence  brought. 
Every  passion,  every  feeling 
More  His  hidden  life  revealing  ; 
Loss  of  self  from  hour  to  hour, 
More  of  Christ's  transfornning  power  ; 
Yearnings  heavenward  to  aspire 
Unto  Jesus  higher,  higher. 

Higher,  higher,  till  at  length. 
Going  on  from  strength  to  strength, 
Passing  up  from  grace  to  grace, 
I  behold  that  longed  for  face, 
Which  is  ever  o'er  me  leaning, 
With  its  deep  and  tender  meaning, 
And  doth  into  light  retire 
But  to  lead  me  higher,  higher." 

This — this  is  life  eternal ;  commenced  on  earth  and  consummated 
in  eternity.  Let  me  urge  you  to  possess  it.  Come  to  Him  who  is 
the  Life.  Bring  your  thoughts,  your  affections,  your  characters;  bring 
your  selves,  and  what  appertains  thereto ;  lay  all  at  His  feet,  become 
heirs  of  His  kingdom  and  glory,  and  the  life  eternal  will  be  yours 
through  the  knowledge  of  God  in  Christ. 


Mythical  Heroism,  Past  and  Present. 


By  Louis  S.  Cumrack,  A.  M. 


A  myth  is  an  idea  or  fancy  presented  in  an  historical  form  and 
though  any  picture  at  any  time  in  this  shape  might  be  called  a  myth, 
yet  by  usage,  the  word  is  confined  to  those  pictures  made  in  the  early 
periods  of  a  people's  existence  for  the  purpose  of  presenting  their 
religious  belief  and  generally  oldest  traditions  in  an  attractive  form. 
The  tendency  to  create  myths  in  this  way  seems  inherent  in  every  peo- 
ple. The  early  history  of  every  nation,  however  young  the  nation 
may  be,  is  enveloped  in  a  sort  of  mythological  cloud,  and  abounds  in 
legends  and  fabulous  narrations,  which  present  characters  of  ideal 
heroism  upon  whom  hang  all  the  greatness  and  sublimity  which  per- 
tained t6  the  gods  of  Greek  Mythology.  A  myth  is  not  to  be  con- 
founded with  an  allegory,  the  one  is  the  unconscious  act  of  the  popu- 
lar mind  at  an  early  stage  of  society,  the  other  a  conscious  act  of  the 
individual  mind  at  any  stage  of  social  progress.  The  parables  of  the 
New  Testament  are  allegorical,  so  are  ^^^sop's  Fables;  they  are  mis- 
taken for  realities,  they  are  known  to  have  been  invented  for  a  special 
didactic  purpose,  and  so  received.  The  peculiarity  of  myths  is 
that  they  are  not  only  conceived  in  the  narrative  form,  but  they  are 
generally  taken  for  real  narrations  by  the  people  to  whom  they  belong,  so 
long  at  least,  as  they  do  not  pass  a  certain  stage  of  intellectual  culture. 
The  general  use  of  the  word  Mythology  is  understood  to  refer  to  the 
religious  superstition  which  produced  the  so-called  divinities  of 
Olympus,  but  I  prefer  to  give  a  wider  meaning  to  the  word,  and  em- 
brace all  those  false  heroes  of  poetry  and  song,  be  they  gods  or  be 
they  men,  be  they  Grecian  or  be  they  Roman  myths,  be  they  divini- 
ties of  the  world's  first  making  or  be  they  heroes  of  the  worship  of 
to-day.  Mythology,  as  I  define  it,  included  not  only  those  gods  of 
whom  the  classical  dictionary  alone  speaks  but  also  those  whose  his- 
tory is  as  familiar  to  us  as  the  news  of  yesterday.  Ancient  Mythology 
was  that  in  which  the  elements  of  air,  fire  and  water  were  originally 


164 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


the  objects  of  religious  adoration,  and  the  principal  deities  were  per- 
sonifications of  the  powers  of  nature.  The  transition  was  easy  from 
a  personification  of  the  elements  to  the  notion  of  supernatural  beings 
presiding  over  and  governing  the  different  objects  of  nature.  The 
ancients  whose  imaginations  were  lively,  peopled  all  nature  with  invisi- 
ble beings,  and  supposed  that  every  object  from  the  sun  and  sea  to 
the  smallest  fountain  and  rivulet  were  under  the  care  of  some  particular' 
divinity.  These  divinities  of  the  golden  age  of  innocence  and  simpli- 
city have  been  proven  to  be  the  images  of  creative  fancy.  The  great 
and  all  powerful  Jupiter  the  father  and  lord  of  heaven,  the  god  of 
rain,  thunder-storms  and  lightning,  with  all  his  epithets  of  Pluvius 
Fulgurator,  Fulminator  and  Optimus  Maximus,  he  who  sat  upon 
proud  Olympus  and  held  in  his  great  right  hand  all  the  elements  of 
celestial  and  physical  nature,  is  gazed  upon  by  the  school  boy  of  to-day 
as  a  gigantic  myth,  and  the  thunder  of  a  summer  shower  reverberates 
only  the  deep  intonations  of  that  once  powerful  god  of  superstition. 
Hercules  who  strangled  infants  in  his  cradle,  slew  human  lives,  killed 
nine-headed  hydras,  performed  twelve  great  labors  for  the  sake  of 
becoming  immortal,  lives  only  in  the  dream  of  idle  fancy.  To  whose 
fabulous  wanderings,  when  pursued  by  the  vengeance .  of  Juno,  be- 
comes the  crescent  sphere  which  lights  the  world  at  night;  her  wander- 
ings over  the  whole  world,  her  plunge  through  the  Ionian  sea,  her 
roaming  though  the  plains  of  Illyria,  her  ascent  of  Mount  Hoemus, 
her  crossing  of  the  Bosphorus,  all  represent  the  continual  revolutions 
of  the  moon,  and  Argus  iier  sleepless  watcher  of  a  hundred  eyes,  be- 
comes the  starry  sky.  Saturn,  who  devoured  his  own  children,  is  the 
the  same  power  we  now  call  Time,  which  can  truly  be  said  to  destroy 
whatsoever  it  has  brought  into  existence.  Phoebus  with  his  golden 
chariot  becomes  the  sun,  and  his  drawings  near  the  earth  causing 
Ceras  to  burn  up  and  cry  for  water,  becomes  the  drought  of  a  July 
summer.  Proserpine  carried  away  by  Pluto  becomes  the  seed  corn 
carried  into  the  earth  until  spring  brings  it  to  hfe  again.  All  these  gods 
and  goddesses  have  passed  away  and  we  laugh  at  that  idea  of  hero  wor- 
ship which  made  gods  of  nothing  and  canonized  a  plant;  From  the 
golden  age  mythology  takes  on  another  form.  All  ages  seem  to  be 
imbued  with  the  one  idea  that  there  must  be  heroes  to  worship,  and  if 
heroes  do  not  exist,  then  heroes  must  be  manufactured,  and  our  history 
is  rich  in  stories  of  men  and  women  who  never  lived,  but  who  are 
worshiped  and  extolled  more  highly  than  ever  were  the  Olympian 
Jove  or  the  fleet  winged  Mercury.  Each  nation  must  have  its  own; 
the  world  had  reached  that  point  where  in  order  to  retain  the  individ- 
ual and  peculiar  traits  of  each  people  the  legends  and  narration  of 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


folk  lore  must  also  be  individual  and  peculiar.  Some  myths  are  not 
even  recorded,  and  they  live  only  in  the  grafidfather's  tales  of  a  win- 
ter's evening  told  to  the  gaping  crowd  about  the  radius  of  the  fire-log's 
grateful  heat.  Let  us  consider  a  few  of  these  fables  of  modern 
mythology  where  we  find  a  rich  field  alike  for  the  ambitious  worshiper 
of  imaginary  heroes,  or  the  delving  student  of  iconoclasm.  These 
myths.of  modern  times  are  not  like  those  of  old  possessers  and  rulers, 
but  are  gods  of  greatness  and  renown,  who  serve  as  models  for  the 
ambition  of  the  gifted  boy,  and  upon  the  emulation  of  whose  example 
hangs  his  future  worth. 

Joan  of  Arc  is  an  example  of  mythical  greatness.  When  exposed 
.  to  the  light  of  reason,  she  dwindles  into  a  fanatical  school  girl,  and 
loses  all  the  shade  of  heroic  grandeur  which  characterized  her  in  the 
rose-colored  romance  of  the  century  in  which  she  lived.  Joan  of  Arc 
might  have  been  a  great  woman  in  her  time,  but  not  now;  she  might 
have  felt  that  France  was  waiting  in  suffering  and  anxiety  for  her  no- 
ble self-sacrifice  of  her  womanly  modesty,  sex,  and  everything  which 
goes  to  make  up  the  adorable  and  respectable  in  women ;  she  may  have 
felt  that  in  doing  all  this  she  was  handing  l)er  name  down  to  posterity, 
but  she  was  mistaken.  The  average  lady  of  to-day  knows  nothing  of, 
and  cares  less  for,  the  maid  of  Orleans.  She  has  ceased  to  be  looked 
upon  as  a  goddess,  her  signal  glory  has  faded,  and  Joan  of  Arc  lives 
only  among  the  Jupiters  and  Junos  of  Greek  mythology. 

Few  medieval  heroes  are  so  well  known  as  William  Tell.  His 
exploits  have  been  celebrated  by  the  great  poets  and  musicians  of  mod- 
ern times.  It  is  a  beautiful  story  and  reads  well.  The  touchmg  and 
implicit  confidence  of  the  boy  as  he  stood  with  the  apple  upon  his  head, 
and  knew  that  the  unerring  skill  of  his  father  would  send  the  arrow 
through  the  core  and  not  ruffle  a  single  hair ;  the  fainting  of  the  father, 
the  disclosure  of  the  arrow,  the  famous  answer  ^'to  shoot  the  tyrant 
had  I  slain  my  son,"  all  have  that  same  ring  of  mythical  fabulosity. 
Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  his  vast  reputation,  no  such  person  as  William 
Tell  ever  existed.  It  is  useless  to  bring  his  cross-bow,  preserved  in 
the  arsenal  at  Zurich;  it  is  useless  to  point  to  his  tree  and  other  relics 
as  unimpeachable  witnesses.  The  proofs  are  not  more  valid  than  the 
handkerchief  of  St.  Veronica  or  the  fragments  of  the  true  cross. 
Swiss  history,  for  an  interval  of  nearly  two  hundred  years  after  the 
shooting  of  the  apple  is  supposed  to  have  taken  place,  mentions  nei- 
ther a  Tell,  nor  a  William,  nor  the  apple,  nor  the  cruelty  of  Gessler. 
It  may  also  be  stated  that  the  charters  of  Kussenach,  when  examined, 
show  that  no  man  by  the  name  of  Gessler  ever  ruled  there.  William 
Tell  becomes  to  us  another  ^myth,  disappearing  from  [the  ranks  of 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


heroe^  who  were,  and  merging  into  a  hero  of  fancy  and  imagination. 

But  what  of  us?  Is  this  age  so  advanced  in  enlightenment  that  there 
is  no  mythology  in  it?  Will -the  ages  to  come  be  enabled  to  sort  out 
at  a  glace  the  present  age  and  say  l^ehold  the  best,  the  purest,  the  most 
real?  Far  from  it.  Our  mythology  is  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  that 
which  characterized  the  ages  which 'we  have  just  considered.  Ours  far 
excels  the  ancients  in  the  matter  of  mythical  frauds,  but  of  a  different 
stamp.  Our  myths  are  written  up  in  the  shape  of  incentives  to  ambi- 
tion, and  heroes  are  manufactured  of  the  commonest  clay.  "I'is  said 
that  a  man's  glory  lives  after  him;  that  while  he  lives  he  is  not  appre- 
ciated ;  only  after  he  is  gone  does  the  world  realize  how  sad  and  how 
drear}'  it  is  without  him.  Then,  as  if  to  compensate  for  the  neglect  in 
life,  his  glory  is  put  into  poetry  and  song,  and  his  goodness  is  carried  so 
high  and  lauded  so  grandly  that  the  mere  man  is  lost  sight  of  in  the 
character  so  god-like.  He  ceases  to  become  a  man,  but  bounds  at 
once  into  a  fifth  reader  hero  of  the  broadest  stripe.  Our  nation's  rec- 
ords are  full  of  them:  the  press  columns  of  to-day  are  teeming  with 
them.  Ours  is  the  grandest  hero-worshiping  nation  in  the  world. 
Ours  is  the  age  of  sentimental  worship ;  ours  is  the  age  of  emulative 
models  ;  ours  is  the  age  of  excessive  heroism.  We  go  back  in  our  his- 
tory as  a  nation,  and  we  find  a  Jupiter  standing  on  the  threshold.  Where 
is  the  patriotic  American  who  does  not  point  with  pride  to  the  heroic 
Washington,  at  once  the  patriot,  the  soldier,  the  statesman.  He  lived 
and  was  appreciated,  and  was  recognized  as  the  ruling  mind  of  his  age. 
His  inability  to  prevaricate  about  a  little  matter  of  a  chopped  cherry 
tree  has  become  a  part  of  our  mythology.  Washington,  I  consider, 
may  have  been  a  great  man  a  hundred  years  ago,  but  to-day  he  seems 
to  the  present  age  an  imaginary  character  of  greatness  and  renown, 
'i'his  is  not  a  romantic  age  ;  plain,  truthful  and  non-poetical,  is  its  motto. 
Stories  of  great  men  and  great  deeds,  and  those  ideas  which  so  gov- 
erned our  ancestors,  sound  to  us  as  visionary  legends  from  the  book  of 
poetry.  We  are  wiser  than  the  preceding  age.  Advancement  and 
civilization  have  carried  us  along  until  we  are  able  at  a  glance  to  detect 
the  true  and  the  false,  the  mythical  and  the  real.  We  regard  such  char- 
acters as  Washington,  not  in  the  light  of  a  century  ago,  therefore,  but 
we  see  him  as  he  would  appear  to-day,  and  find  that  he  is  a  mythical 
stimulant  to  excite  the  ambition  and  urge  it  on  to  greater  work.  We 
regard  him  as  such,  because  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  what  is  so 
common  now  could  be  so  great  and  god-like  as  he  once  appeared. 
We  find  George  Washington  now  in  the  common  citizen.  We  find 
Patrick  Henry  now  behind  the  counters  of  our  stores.  We  find  that 
while  John  Adams  shook  the  world  and  the  universe  trembled  at  his 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


167 


voice,  now  he  speaks  and  the  earth  revolves  on  its  axis  unconscious  even 
ot  his  presence;  then  Thomas  Jefferson  sat.  upon  the  throne  of  unap- 
proachable statesmanship,  now  he  swarms  our  cities  and  builds  our 
houses.  They  are  dreamy  myths  of  the  past ;  their  grand  thundering 
eloquence  which  so  delighted  and  entranced  our  ancestors ;  their  beauti- 
ful and  sublime  sentiments  are  the  commonplace  ideas  of  to-day.  Our 
mythology  is  not  altogether  political  in  its  nature.  We  find  that  our 
religion,  the  pure,  simple  and  unadorned  religion  of  the  church  is  not 
exempt  from  this  hero  worship.  Not  one  church  alone,  but  all  churches 
find  in  their  early  history  some  one  upon  whom  hangs  that  saintly  and 
mythological  mantle  of  heroism.  Calvin  was  a  hero;  Alexander 
Campbell  stood  high  in  the  ranks  of  extolled  heroism,  and  John  Wes- 
ley is  canonized.  John  Wesley,  the  founder  of  the  great  church  which 
attaine'd  such  magnitude  of  proportions,  was  a  common  man.  He 
possessed  all  the  traits  which  combine  to  make  up  an  earthly  despot- 
ism. We  look  upon  him  not  as  a  man,  not  as  one  similar  in  all  respects 
to  us,  but  we  look  upon  him  as  a  something  beyond  a  kind  of  a  saint, 
a  sort  of  theological  myth. 

John  Wesley  lived  in  an  age  of  ignorance  and  superstition;  he 
lived  at  a  time  when  he  towered  high  above  his  fellow  men  as  an  oak 
tree  towers  above  the  weeds  of  the  field.  His  greatness  was  recognized 
then  because  he  stood  almost  alone;  now  he  is  numerous  in  the  Simp- 
sons, th^  Bowmans,  the  Merrills  and  the  Fosters  of  the  present  age. 
The  Wesleys  of  to-day  crowd  our  pulpits  and  ride  our  pulpits  by  the 
thousands.  Then  it  required  the  united  strength  of  Methodism  years 
to  increase  the  membership  to  a  thousand ;  now,  in  these  days  of  Har- 
rison and  such  men,  the  membership  rolls  up  in  the  hundreds  in  a  sin- 
gle week.  The  ways  are  different ;  the  style  has  changed.  Who  before 
me  has  not  read  the  life  of  William  Carvosso,  the  greatest  class  leader 
of  his  age?  Now  he  would  be  considered  an  old  fogy  of  the  worst 
type. 

This  gulf  between  the  then  and  now ;  this  difference  between  the 
mythical,  great,  poetical,  sentimental  and  romantic,  and  the  great  of 
reality,  sober-thinking,  logical  and  non-poetical,  is  bridged  by  educa- 
tion and  science.  In  those  days  of  ignorance  and  superstition  educa- 
tion was  a  prize  and  luxury  indulged  in  only  by  the  few,  and  he  who 
possessed  it  was  greater  than  to  be  a  king.  Now,  so  free  and  plentiful 
is  it  that  to  be  without  it  is  to  be  lower  than  the  veriest  slave.  Then 
education  was  confined  to  a  few  scattering  log  houses,  miles  intervening 
between  one  and  the  other ;  now  the  golden  orb  of  day  as  he  sinks  be- 
hind the  western  slope  mirrors  himself  in  the  golden  domes  of  thou- 
sands of  our  many-windowed  colleges,  from  which  learning  flows  free 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


to  all.  Then  Watts  was  beginning  to  see  the  mysteries  of  a  steam  ket- 
tle; now,  the  same  principles  dormant  in  that  tea  kettle  speeds  along 
yonder  railroad  fleet  as  the  wind,  and  drags  behind  it  a  population. 
Then  Benjamin  Franklin  hung  a  key  in  a  kite  string,  and  the  whole 
world  marveled  at  the  result;  now  he  touches  a  knob  and  the  same 
principles  convey  a  message  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth;  he 
places  his  ear  to  a  telephone  and  hears  the  whisper  of  his  friend  a  hun- 
dred blocks  away.  Science  and  education  have  wrought  a  great 
change  in  the  public  mind  and  placed  much  higher  the  true  standard 
of  greatness  and  fame.  Then  a  man  of  enlarged  ideas  and  expanded 
reason  was  so  far  in  advance  of  his  age  that  he  could  sway  the  public 
mind  and  turn  it  whithersoever  he  would;  now  the  public  mind  sways 
the  man,  and  public  opinion  rules  him.  Washington  and  his  compeers 
belonged  to  the  former  class.  Their  intellects  were  brighter;  fheir- 
ideas  more  expanded.  They  were  men  of  a  higher  stamp  of  civiliza 
tion,  and  the  infant  nation  fell  upon  them  as  guiding  ^stars.  It  was 
this  that  brought  the  fame  of  these  men  down  to  us  with  their  names 
so  effulgent  and  their  character  so  similar  to  the  mythical  gods  of  other 
ages.  But  education  has  so  learned  the  mass  that  Washington  ceases 
to  be  looked  upon  as  a  god.  The  university  student  of  history  tears 
away  at  a  swoop  all  the  romance  which  surrounds  him.  You  find 
George  Washington's  equal  to-day  in  the  commonest  citizens;  men 
who  could  have  brought  order  out  of  chaos  in  far  less  time  than  he 
did  it.  Education  finds  Ben.  Franklin  in  the  plodding  school  boy, 
who  solves  such  intricate  problems  and  performs  such  scientific  experi- 
ments as  would  cause  the  silk  kite  operator  to  stand  aghast.  Education 
finds  Patrick  Henry  now  in  every  man;  times  are  not  such  now  that 
when  a  man  rises  in  a  pubhc  meeting  and  cries  out,  "Ceasar  had  his 
Brutus,"'  that  he  is  elevated  high  in  the  standard  of  eloquence  and  or- 
atory. Such  proceedings  belonged  to  an  age  of  mythical  and  imagin- 
ary characters:  such  proceedings  belonged  to  an  ignorant  and  supersti- 
tious people.  From  such  an  age  comes  Washington,  Jefferson,  Calvin, 
VVesley  and  Carvosso.  This  age  of  reason  and  logic  requires  something 
more  than  this.  We  have  too  many  of  them  to  regard  them  otherwise  than 
myths.  While  their  faculty  placed  them  on  the  topmost  round  of  the 
ladder,  when  their  scarcity  gave  them  seats  side  by  side  with  the  gods; 
now  their  plentifulness  places  them  side  by  side  with  the  bricklayer  and 
the  mason;  now  their  multiplicity  crowd  our  streets  and  cry  for  room; 
now  we  see  them  as  we  saw  the  mythical  gods  of  old  and  place  them 
in  the  same  category  of  frauds  and  myths. 

Our  mythology  has  a  cause;  our  hero  worship  has  a  foundation. 
Iconoclasts  are  not  born  but  are  made  so  by  that  same  education 


i 


ACTON  LECTURES,  1 69 

which  makes  an  ideal  man  of  an  unreal  hero.  I  am  an  ic<yioclast  to 
this  extent:  I  am  opposed  to  this  fawning  obsequeisness  which  makes 
sycophants  of  we  Americans;  this  crawling  in  the  dust  to  influence; 
this  extensive  hero-worship  which  makes  a  Jupiter  of  a  ward  politician 
and  a  Hercules  of  a  money  bag;  this  sickening  degradation  of  mind 
to  flesh,  which  puts  the  despotism  of  royalty  to  the  blush  by  its  inferi- 
ority. We  make  heroes  in  our  business  by  placing  pilots  at  the 
helm  who  know  not  the  channels  or  the  dangers  of  the  coast;  who  are 
simply  figure-heads — great  m  their  own  bombastic  and  tyrannical  con- 
ceit. Place  one  of  the  self-constituted  heroes  in  power  and  his  ar- 
rogance surpasses  all  comprehension.  By  virtue  of  his  position  he 
cries  out:  -'I  am  the  pilot;  I  will  steer  this  vessel  though  she  goes  to 
pieces  on  the  breakers  in  plain  view."  He  stands  thus  a  self-constructed 
hero  and  the  crew,  though  better  men  than  he,  rush  to  and  fro  at  his  com- 
t  mand,  and  intellect  plays  the  slave  to  arrogance  and  stupidity.  1  have 
no  respect  for  a  man  who  loses  his  individuality  in  the  shadow  of  a  lesser 
light.  Rather  would  I  be  the  man  who,  sooner  than  be  crushed  by  ig- 
norance and  tyranny,  would  resign  forever  all  claims  for  recognition  / 
and  become  a  leader  in  the  ranks  of  iconoclasm.  Our  fathers  are 
a  great  deal  to  blame  for  this.  From  our  earliest  infancy  we  have 
nothing  but  patterns  and  models  held  up  for  our  emulation.  Instead 
of  urging  u])on  us  the  importance  ourselves  of  being  what  we  are,  we 
are  continually  reminded  of  the  excellence  of  some  one  else,  and  in- 
vited, 'yea,  almost  driven,  to  be  like  him.  America,  as  a  nation,  is 
independent ;  iVmericans,  as  individuals,  are  fawnmg  and  imitative  ; 
and  here  we  strike  the  true  secret  of  our  mythology,  a  misdirected  am- 
bition; an  ambition  which  makes  one  cater  to  power  and  worship  an 
idol.  The  idolatry  of  such  a  worship  is  ruin.  Young  men,  especially, 
have  been  so  often  exhorted  to  have  souls  above  business,  to  cultivate 
an  aim  for  a  prouder  destuiy.  We  have  heard  so  much  of  men  who 
have  risen  from  the  ranks  to  be  glorified  in  the  world's  memory  that  it 
is  not  surprising  if  some  have  cultivated  such  a  spirit  of  disquietude 
and  disappointment  as  that  of  the  grocer  boy  who  attempted  to  commit 
suicide,  assigning  as  his  reason  that  he  was  made  by  God  to  be  a  man, 
but  doomed  by  man  to  be  a  grocer.  Punshon  says :  ' '  There  is  noth- 
ing more  perilous  to  practical  success,  more  destructive  to  manly  inde- 
pendence than  the  indulgence  in  this  delirious  and  unprofitable  dream." 
Once  surrendered  to  its  spell  the  mind  becomes  passive  and  loses  all 
power  of  self-control.  Real  life  is  too  common;  dreams  of  the  future 
— a  rich  future — mere  air  castles  of  political  advancement;  an  imagin- 
ary Senate  fired  with  an  imaginary  Presidential  chair  within  easy  grasp ; 
an  imaginary  fame  in  ages  coming,  all  combine  to  render  ambition  unreal 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


and  foolish  ;  hurtful  to  all  healthiness  of  moral  sentiment  and  to  all  in- 
dustry of  patient  toil.  We  need,  however,  have  no  ambition  at  all.  If 
the  elements  of  greatness  are  in  us  they  will  come  out,  even  though  a 
mountain  were  piled  on  them  and  hid  them  in  its  innermost  depths.  But 
the  great  trouble  is  that  most  of  us  will  remain  as  we  are.  We  can 
not  be  successful  otherwise.  Ambition  spoils  a  good  plow  boy  by  mak- 
ing a  poor  minister  of  him ;  ambition  drags  behind  the  plow  an  embryo 
Wesley ;  ambition  spoils  a  good  minister  by  making  a  poor  poHtician 
out  of  him;  ambition  drags  a  first-class  section  hand  on  to  the  rostrum 
and  fills  his  soul  with  an  idea  of  impossible  eloquence  which  unfits  him 
for  either  the  one  or  the  other;  ambition  makes  Micawbers  of  us,  and 
we  are  always  on  the  lookout  for  something  to  turn  up  which  will  float 
us  into  the  possession  of  a  fortune  or  an  easily  acquired  renown.  Am- 
bition is  like  a  coquette — deceitful  in  all  things  and  dreadfully  wicked. 
It  is  another  of  the  grand  imaginations  of  the  past;  one  of  those  myths 
which  are  used  to  build  up  enchanting  and  glorious  pictures  of  the  fu- 
ture leading  man,  on  and  on,  as  he  thinks,  higher  and  higher  until  the 
spell  is  broken,  the  charm  is  gone,  and  he  drops  floating,  like  the  drift- 
wood in  the  rapids,  too  late  to  retract,  and  over  he  goes,  another  vic- 
tim of  mythical  and  misguided  ambition.  Life  is  too  short  for  all 
men  to  be  heroes.  We  are  heroes  already.  Greatness  is  born 
when  we  are  born.  Heroism  begins  with  our  first  breath.  Mythol- 
ogy of  the  present  should  pass  away.  We  should  aim  not  at  im- 
possible heroism,  but  we  should  endeavor  to  be  heroes  in  our 
sphere.  We  should  not  live  in  the  cloud-land  of  some  transcendental 
Heaven,  but  should  use  all  our  endeavor  to  bring  Heaven  down  to  the 
common  world.  We  can  go  out  among  our  fellow-men  and  become  as 
gods,  with  a  radiance  brighter  than  the  noonday  sun,  in  the  good  work 
which  we  can  do  by  cultivating  contentment  with  our  lot,  and  satisfac- 
tion with  ourselves.  Urge  not  the  example  of  false  and  faded  heroes; 
let  myths,  past  and  present,  forever  be  buried,  and  instead  of  worship- 
ing idols  of  clay  and  stone,  worship  alone  that  true  God  which  makes 
us  better  contented  and  self-satisfied.  This  alone  is  the  true  hero-wor- 
ship, and  before  which  all  other  gods  and  myths  fade  into  insignicance 
like  a  snowflake  in  the  disk  of  yonder  sun.  Spare  not  the  ruthless  ax 
of  the  reformer,  which  breaks  the  idols,  and  ignorance  and  romance. 
Live  for  the  future,  not  for  the  past.  Remember  the  lines  of  America's 
greatest  poet,  when  he  says : 

"Oh  backward  looking  sire  of  time, 
The  new  is  old,  the  old  is  new, 
The  cycle  of  a  change  sublime 
Still  sweeping  through. 


ACTON  LECTUKES. 

So  wisely  taught  the  Indian  seer, 
Destroying  Seva,  forming  Brahni, 

Who  wake  by  turns  earth,  love  and  fear. 
Are  one,  the  same. 

Idly  as  thou  in  that  old  day 

Thou  mournest,  did  iliysire  repine, 

So  in  his  time  thy  child,  grown  gray, 
Shall  sigh  for  thine. 

But  life  shall  on  upward  go, 
The  eternal  step  of  progress  beats 

To  that  great  anthem,  calm  and  slow, 
Which  God  repeats. 

Take  heart  !    The  Master  builds  again, 
A  charmed  life  old  goodness  hath; 

The  tares  may  perish,  but  the  grain 
Is  not  for  death  . 

God  works  in  all  things,  all  obey 
His  first  propulsion  from  the  night, 

Wake  thou  and  watch  !  the  world  is  gray 
With  morning  light." 


p 


WINES  OF  THE  BIBLE. 


By  Ryland  T.  Brown,  a.  m.,  m.  d. 


Before  this  audience  we  risk  nothing  in  assuming  that  the  Bible  is 
a  book  of  inspired  wisdom,  and  rightly  understood,  it  is  our  infalli- 
ble guide,  dictating  to  us  the  path  of  duty  to  God,  to  humanity  and  to 
ourselves.  Now  if  we  propose  to  reform  society  and  correct  the 
abuses  that  have  marred  its  harmony  and  defaced  its  beauty,  it  is  of 
the  first  importance,  at  the  threshold  of  our  labor,  that  we  ascertain 
correctly  our  relations  to  the  teachings  of  that  book.  The  world  was 
cursed  with  drunkenness  in  Bible  times  as  it  is  cursed  with  drunken- 
ness to-day;  and  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  we  know  what  this 
Divine  Oracle  teaches  in  regard  to  that  vice  and  its  cause. 

To  the  careless  and  superficial  English  reader,  we  confess  that  the 
Bible  will  appear  to  be  a  paradox.  In  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  wine 
is  represented  as  one  of  the  choice  blessings  of  God's  providence. 
Thirty  times  in  the  Old  Testament  the  phrase  corn  and  wine  "  is 
used  to  represent  the  fullness  of  the  Divine  blessing.  In  the  same 
book  it  is  denounced  as  a  ciirse — it  is  declared  to  be  a  mocker,  and  we 
are  commanded  not  even  to  look  on  it.  Its  use  was  strictly  forbidden 
to  the  priests  while  ministering  at  the  altar;  and  in  that  book  of  wisdom 
we  are  told:  ''It  is  not  for  kings  to  drink  wine;  nor  for  princes  strong 
drink;  lest  they  drink  and  forget  the  law  and  pervert  the  judgment  of 
any  of  the  afflicted."  A  woe  is  pronounced  against  him  that  giveth  it 
to  his  neighbor  to  drink,  and  wine  is  repeatedly  made  the  symbol 
and  type  of  the  Divine  vengeance.  What  shall  we  say  to  this?  Is  the 
Bible  inconsistent?  Is  it  a  book  of  contradictions?  Certainly  not. 
It  only  needs  a  careful  investigation,  and  the  seeming  paradox  will  dis- 
appear. I  do  not  read  the  Hebrew,  and  therefore  do  not  pretend  to 
any  personal  knowledge  of  the  Old  Testament,  in  the  original;  but  I 
have  faith  in  the  capacity  and  honesty  of  such  Oriental  scholars  as  Moses 
Stewart,  Dr.  Nott,  Adam  Clark  and  Dr.  Ritchie.    These  scholars  tell 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


US  that  there  are  no  less  than  nine  distinct  Hebrew  words  that  are 
rendered  wine  in  our  EngUsh  Bible.  The  first  of  these  to  which  we 
invite  your  attention  is 

TIROSH. 

The  word  literally  means  vine  fruit—it  occurs  thirty-eight  times  in 
the  Bible,  and  is  always  represented  by  our  English  word  wine,  though 
sometimes  with  the  adjective  sweet,  or  new,  prefixed.  In  every  in- 
stance (with  a  solitary  exception),  it  is  commended  as  a  blessing.  The 
exception  is  Hosea  iv,  2.  Here  it  is  spoken  of  in  connection  with  a 
gluttonous  feast,  and  intoxication  is  not  indicated.  From  this  it  is 
evident  that  the  word  was  not  used  to  express  an  alcoholic  liquor. 
"Corn  wine  {Tirosh)  and, Oil"  was  a  comprehensive  phrase  used  by 
the  Jews  to  express  the  products  of  the  field,  th'e  vineyard  and  the 
olive  grove.  Tirosh,  or  vine-fruit,  is  in  itself  a  blessing  and  thelucious 
juice,  as  it  flows  from  the  wine-press,  has  in  it  all  the  elements  of  nutri- 
tion more  perfectly  adapted  to  sustain  life,  than  any  other  natural  product 
excepting  milk.  Its  sugar  furnishes  the  material  to  produce  animal 
heat  by  oxidation  :  its  gluten  contains  theprotine  elements  for  repairing 
the  constant  waste  of  the  living  body  ;  and  its  tartar  gave  to  the  gastric 
fluid  the  acid  necessary  to  promote  digestion.  This  was  used  as  a  diet 
drink  at  'table  among  the  Egyptians,  Greeks  and  Romans,  as  we  have 
the  direct  testimony  of  Moses,  Aristotle  and  Pliny;  and  by  implica- 
tion we  may  say  among  the  Jews  also,  as  they  had  a  specific  word  in 
their  language  to  designate  it.  Several  methods  of  preserving  the  vine- 
fruit  from  fermentation  were  known  and  practiced  by  the  Oriental 
nations  from  the  earliest  antiquity.  Of  these  methods  we  have  not 
time  now  to  speak  in  detail.  In  the  writings  of  Cato,  Varro,  Colu- 
mella and  Pliny  the  several  processes  are  fully  detailed.  The  Hebrew 
word 

VAIN 

Occurs  one  hundred  and  foriy-one  times  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  is 
uniformly  translated  wine  in  our  version.  This  is  a  generic  word,  and 
may  be  used  to  signify  the  juice  of  the  grape  in  all  its  stages;  but  when 
used  without  qualification  it  generally  means  the  fermented,  and  con- 
sequently intoxicating  juice.  Wine  (yain)  is  spoken  of  in  the  Bible  as 
an  article  in  common  use  among  men,  without  approval  or  disapproval. 
In  this  relation  it  occurs  thirty-three  times.  It  is  spoken  of  twenty- 
four  times  as  being  permitted  or  enjoyed.  It  is  denounced  as  a  curse 
or  spoken  of  as  a  warning  admonition  seventy-one  times,  and  the  re- 
maining thirteen  occurrences  of  the  word  relate  to  religious  observances. 


ACTON   LECTURES.  175 

Now,  it  must  be  obvious  to  every  reader  of  the  Bible  that  the  twenty- 
four  permissions  can  not  relate  to  the  same  kind  of  wine  that  is  the 
subject  of  the  seventy-one  denunciations.  The  Bible  is  not  that  kind 
of  a  book.  It  is  always  consistent  when  rightly  understood.  In  our 
mother  tongue  wine  is  a  generic  term — a  family  name,  and  in  that 
family  we  have  individuals  that  differ  widely  in  their  character.  .  We 
have  the  unfermented  wine  c^s  it  comes  foaming  from  the  press,  which 
is  a  rich  blessing  to  be  desired;  and  we  have  wine  that  is  a  mocker; 
wine  that  is  raging;  a  wine-cup  in  whose  depths  lurk  a  thousand  devils, 
and  more  curses  for  poor  humanity  than  were  in  fabled  Pandora's  box. 
Now,  give  the  Bible  fair  play ;  when  it  speaks  of  wine  as  a  blessing  it 
alludes  to  that  which  does  bless,  and  when  it  warns  us  against  the  wine- 
cup  It  means  drunk-producing  wine. 

The  word  Shechar  occurs  twenty-three  times  in  the  Hebrew 
Scripture,  and  is  usually  translated  "strong  drink."  Once  (Num. 
xxviii.,  7)  it  is  rendered  "strong  wine. "  It  generally  refers  to  intoxicat 
ing  drinks  made  from  dates  and  other  sweet  fruits ;  and  probably  to  liquor 
obtained  from  malted  barley  and  other  grains.  Strong  drink  is  never 
spoken  of,  in  the  Bible,  as  a  blessing,  nor  is  its  use  ever  commended. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  is  almost  invariably  denounced  as  an  evil.  Six 
other  words  occur  in  the  Hebrew  that  are,  in  a  few  instances,  rendered 
wine.  These  are  chiefly  adjectives  in  form,  and  are  used  with  the  noun 
yain,  understood. 

With. this  hasty  review  of  Hebrew  words  represented  in  our  ver- 
sion by  the  term  wine,  let  us  now  enquire  into  the  tone  and  spirit  of 
these  ancient  oracles  in  regard  to  the  intoxicating  effect  of  wine  and 
strong  drink.  In  Genesis,  ix.,  21,  we  find  the  first  mention  of  wine, 
and  there  its  terrible  effect  on  Noah,  the  "Preacher  of  Righteousness," 
is  faithfully  recorded  as  a  warning  to  all  coming  generations.  Lot — 
the  righteous  Lot — who,  for  his  good  character,  escaped  the  destruc- 
tion of  Sodom,  was  finally  tefnpted  into  a  terrible  wickedness  by  wine. 
But  time  would  fail  us  to  tell  of  the  fearful  denunciations  of  wine  in 
the  language  of  Moses,  of  David,  of  Solomon  and  of  the  Prophets. 
Hence  the  book  is  clear  and  explicit  in  its  commendations  of  abstin- 
ence. 

When  an  Israelite  separated  himself,  or  herself,  b^  a  vow  of  holi- 
ness to  the  Lord,  all  use  of  wine  or  strong  drink  was  absolutely  for- 
bidden while  the  vow  of  the  Nazerite  was  upon  them.  Jonadab,  the 
son  of  Rachab,  in  view  of  the  debasing  influence  of  wine,  'as  he  .wit- 
nessed it  in  the  idolatrous  Court  of  Ahab,  commanded  his  children 
that  they  should  drink  no  wine,  neither  they  nor  their  posterity  forever. 
So  well  pleasing  to  the  Lord  was  this  abstinence  that  he  bore  this  tes- 


1/6 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


timony  by  Jeremiah,  the  prophet:  "Thus  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  the 
God  of  Israel;  because  you  have  obeyed  the  commandment  of  Jonadab, 
your  father,  and  kept  his  precepts,  and  done  according  to  all  that  he 
hath  commanded  you,  therefore  thus  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  the  God 
of  Israel:  Jonadab,  the  son  of  Rachab,  shall  not  want  a  man  to 
stand  before  me  forever."  Could  we  ask  a  higher  commendation  of 
abstinence  ? 

When  God  would  send  to  captive  Israel  a  deliverer  of  great  mil- 
itary prowess  and  unparalelled  physical  strength  He  sent  His  angel  to 
Manoah's  wife  with  the  promise  of  a  son  who  should  begin  to  deliver 
Israel  ;  but  He  commanded  her  that  during  the  months  of  gestation  she 
must  "drink  no  wine  nor  strong  drink."  So  Samson  was  a  Nazarite 
from  his  birth. 

But  we  turn  now  to  examine  a  few  passages  in  the  New  Testament. 
Both  in  classic  and  sacred  Greek,  Oinos  is  the  generic,  or  family,  name 
of  all  kinds  of  wine.  This  word  occurs  thirty-two  times  in  the  Greek 
New  Testament.  In  many  of  these  there  are  no  qualifying  terms  or 
circumstances  to  indicate  the  kinds  of  wine  alluded  to.  It  is  some- 
times employed  as  an  emblem  of  Divine  wrath,  and  rarely  it  is  alluded 
to  as  a  blessing.  Of  this  class  is  the  wine  of  the  marriage  feast  at 
Cana  (John,  ii. )  Oinos  is  the  word  used  without  qualification,  and  as 
that  term  expressed  every  stage  of  grape  liquid,  from  the  wine-press  to 
the  acetic  fermentation  when  it  became  vinegar,  we  are  left  to  collateral 
circumstances  to  ascertain  the  character  of  this  particular  wine. 

1.  It  was  new  wine.  In  no  instance,  known  to  man,  has  Divine 
power  made  wine  with  alcohol  in  it  when  it  was  less  than  one  day  old. 
That  same  Power  that  made  the  wine  without  the  grape  at  the  weddmg 
of  Cana,  makes  the  wine  in  the  grape  every  year,  and  he  who  assumes 
that  the  product  is  different  is  bound  for  the  proof  of  his  assumption. 

2.  It  was  an  episode  in  the  early  ministry  of  that  Divine  One, 
"who  went  about  doing  good;"  who  did  no  evil,  nor  was  guile  found 
in  him.  To  assume  that  such  a  character  would  prostitute  his  miracu- 
lous powers  to  furnish  the  means  for  a  drunken  revel  is  a  slander,  too 
shocking  to  be  entertained  for  a  moment. 

3.  We  are  told  that  by  this  beginning  of  miracles  "did  Jesus 
manifest  forth  His  glory"  (verse  2).  What  kind  of  glory  would  be 
manifested  in  making  fifty  gallons  of  intoxicating  liquor  to  finish  a 
maudlin  feast  ?  A  liquor  seller  may  believe  that,  I  can  not.  In  short, 
there  if  not  a  shadow  of  evidence  that  the  wine  of  Cana  was  intoxicat- 
ing; nor  that  Jesus  or  His  Disciples  used  such  wine,  either  moderately 
or  immoderately. 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


177 


It  has  been  assumed  that  Jesus  was  a  wine-drinker,  and  that  the 
wine  he  drank  was  intoxicating;  and  Matthew  xi.,  19,  is  quoted  to 
sustain  the  assumption.  The  passage,  taken  in  connection  with  its 
context,  refutes  the  slander  it  is  quoted  to  prove.  It  reads  thus  :  "John 
came  neither  eating  nor  drinking,  and  they  say  he  hath  a  devil.  The 
Son  of  Man  came  eating  and  drinking,  and  they  say,  Behold  a  man 
gluttonous  and  a  wine-bibber."  John  the  Baptist  was  a  Nazerite  from 
his  birth,  and  therefore  he  neither  ate  grapes  nor  drank  wine  of  any 
kind.  He  abstained  from  ordinary  food,  living  on  locust  and  wild 
honey  in  the  wilderness  of  Judea.  "The  Son  of  Man"  mingled  with 
society,  and  ate  and  drank  as  other  men,  and  no  doubt  used  the  sweet 
juice  of  the  grape,  the  common  table  beverage  of  the  country,  and  of 
the  times.  His  enemies  said,  John  had  a  demon,  and  Jesus  was  a  glut- 
ton and  a  wine-bibber.  Was  John  possessed  of  the  devil  ?  and  was 
Jesus  a  glutton?  If  these  are  not  proven,  neither  is  the  accusation 
that  he  was  a  wine-drinker.  But  the  passage  incidentally  reveals  the 
fact  that  a  wine-bibber  was  a  disreputable  character  among  the  Jews, 
and  when  they  sought  to  defame  the  character  of  Jesus  they  called  Him 
a  wine-bibber. 

But  once  on  a  time,  I  heard  it  asserted  that  Jesus  had  honored  the 
wine  cup  by  making  it  the  abiding  type  of  His  redeeming  Blood ;  and 
this  blasphemous  assertion  was  made  on  the  floor  of  the  Senate  of  Indi- 
ana. I  am^  astonished  to  find  many  devout  Bible  readers  who  are 
shocked  when  they  are  told  that  the  New  Testament  says  nothing  about 
wine  at  the  Lord's  Supper.  The  three  Evangelists,  who  describe  that  sol- 
emn scene,  use  nearly  exactly  the  same  language.  It  was  in  the  days  of 
unleavened  bread,  when  everything  fermented  was  banished  from  the 
home  of  the  law-abiding  Jew;  it  was  at  the  close  of  the  paschal  sup- 
per that  Jesus  took  "the  cup"  and  gave  thanks,  etc.  The  Apostle 
Paul  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of  the  First  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  in  de- 
scribing this  scene,  uses  the  same  phrase,  "the  cup,"  five  times,  yet 
says  nothing  of  wine  (Oinos).  But  we  are  not  left  to  conjecture  as  to 
the  contents  of  the  cup,  for  the  Savior  is  reported  as  adding:  "  I  will 
not  drink  henceforth  of  this  fruit  of  the  vine  until  that  day  when  I 
drink  it  new  with  you  in  my  Father's  Kingdom." 

Now,  no  vine  ever  grew  on  this  earth  that  produced  alcohol ; 
therefore  alcoholic  wine  is  not  the  fruit  of  the  vine — the  cup  that  Jesus 
gave  his  disciples  as  a  memorial  of  his  blood.  Alcoholic  wine  is  the 
product  of  the  fermenting  vat,  but  never  the  fruit  of  the  vine.  This 
is  an  important  matter — let  us  make  no  mistake  here.  The  liquid  parts 
of  well-ripened  grapes  consist  of  sugar,  gluten,  tartrate  of  potash  and  a 
small  amount  of  coloring  matter  with  a  minute  portion  of  an  essential 
12 


178 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


oil,  or  ether,  on  which  the  special  flavor  of  the  grape  depends.  These 
are  produced  by  the  vital  action  of  the  vine,  on  materials  collected 
from  the  earth  and  the  air,  and  are  dissolved  in  water  which  the  vine 
absorbs  without  change.  When  this  vine-fruit  is  exposed  to  the  air,  at 
a  favorable  temperature,  a  chemical  change  is  set  up.  The  sugar  is 
decomposed,  and  from  its  elements  carbonic  acid  and  alcohol  are 
formed.  The  first  escapes,  as  a  gas,  into  the  air,  and  the  alcohol  re- 
mains in  solution  in  the  water.  But  gluten  and  the  tartrate  will  not 
remain  in  solution  in  water  holding  alcohol.  They  are  therefore 
precipitated  as  lees,  and  the  alcoholic  liquor  is  drawn  off  holding  noth- 
ing ^hat  the  vine  produced  but  the  coloring  matter  and  the  minute  por- 
tion of  essential  oil  which  forms  the  bouquet  of  the  vina.  The  masses 
have  yet  to  learn  that  chemical  change  destroys  the  identity  of  bodies. 
The  wme  of  the  saloon  is  not  the  wine  of  the  vineyard.  It  was  of  the 
fruit  of  the  vine  that  the  Savior  said:  ' '  As  oft  as  you  drink  of  this 
^cup  you  do  show  forth  my  death."  This  is  a  Divine  appointment  and  no 
human  authority  can  change  it,  or  make  any  substitution  for  it ;  and 
whosoever  presumes  to  do  so  lays  profane  hands  on  the  ark  of  the  Lord. 
Let  him  remember  the  fate  of  Uzzah,  and  beware. 

But  the  Apostle  Paul  gives  us  another  Hne  of  identification  to 
determine  the  character  of  the  sacred  cup.    He  says  (i  Cor.  x,  i6;) 

The  cup  of  blessing  which  we  bless,  is  it  not  the  communion  of 
the  blood  of  Christ?"  Now,  did  the  Apostle  call  that  cup  which 
has  wrung  frOm  the  eyes  of  weeping  innocence,  floods  of  bitter 
tears — that  cup  in  which  lurks  the  concentrated  curses  of  every  age 
and  Nation — the  cup,  on  which  Solomon  warns  us  not  even  to  look — 
did  he  call  it  a  cup  of  blessing?  God  forbid!  He  who  offers  to  me, 
that  cup,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  insults  me,  and  profanes  that  holy 
name.  But  we  are  told  with  a  triumphant  air,  that  Paul's  account  of 
the  supper  at  Cormth  (i  Cor.  xi.  21;)  proves  that  intoxicating  wine 
was  used.  We  answer — it  does,  provided — first,  that  this  was  the  Lord's 
supper,  and  second,  that  our  version  represents  the  Apostle  fairly.  On 
the  first  count,  the  record  declares  explicitly  (verse  20)  that  it  was  not 
the  Lord's  supper,  but  that  they  had  perverted  that  commemorative 
institution,  and  made  of  it  a  kind  of  pic  nic  dinner.  But  even  at  such 
a  feast  as  this,  was  it  the  habit  of  those  times,  and  of  that  people,  to  use 
intoxicating  wine?  The  Greek  word  translated  drunken  is  Methuei, 
the  root  of  which  is  Methu,  which  means  sweet  wine  or  grape  juice, 
and  in  classic  usage  is  translated  by  the  latin  word  Mustum — unfer- 
mented  wine.  The  demonstrative  verb  Methuo,  means  to  drink  sweet 
wine,  and  Methuei,  the  intensive  form  used  in  the  text,  is  drinking 
freely  of  sweet  wine.    A  literal  version  is:    "One  is  hungry  and 


I 


ACTON  LECTURES.  1/9 

another  has  drunk  freely  of  grape  juice."  McNight  translates  it: 
"  One  is  hungry  and  another  is  filled."  The  idea  of  drunkenness  is 
not  in  the  original  text. 

But  we  are  asked:  Do  the  Christian  Scriptures  commend  abstin- 
ence as  a  virtue?  We  answer,  without  hesitancy,  they  do.  Sobriety 
is  enjoined  as  the  cardinal  virtue  of  a  christian  life.  The  grace  of  God 
that  brings  salvation  teaches  us  ''to  hve  soberly,  righteously  and  Godly." 
Drunkenness  is  the  opposite  to  sobriety.  Now,  where  is  the  line  be- 
tween them  ?  Drunkenness  is  the  exhilaration  of  alcohol.  Can  a  man 
be  sober  when  he  has  taken  alcohol,  the  invariable  effect  of  which  is  to 
exhilarate,  and  that  exhilaration  is  drunkenness?  It  may  be  a  very 
small  drunk,  but  it  is  drunkenness  in  kind,  whatever  may  be  the  de- 
gree. Sobriety  demands  abstinence  from  that  which  makes  men  drunk. 
The  man  who  knows  of  any  other  Hne  between  drunkenness  and  sobri- 
ety will  do  the  world  a  favor  by  definitely  marking  out  that  line.  We 
will  do  well  to  heed  the  admonition  of  the  Apostle  Peter:  "Be  sober, 
be  watchful,  because  your  adversary,  the  devil,  as  a  roaring  lion,  walk- 
eth  about  seeking  whom  he  may  devour."  The  first  step  toward  re- 
sisting him  is  to  sober.  He  generally  baits  his  trap,  in  these  days, 
with  lager  beer. 

It  is  admitted  by  all  that  the  Bible,  in  both  its  Testaments,  de- 
nounces drunkenness  as  a  vice — a  crime — a  sin  against  society  and 
against  God;  and  will  you  dare  to  say  that  the  sacred  Scriptures  stultify 
themselves  by  denouncing  drunkenness  and  at  the  same  time  commend- 
ing and  encouraging  the  use  of  that  which  is  the  source  and  fountain 
of  all  drunkenness?  Christian  ethics  is  founded  on  the  principle  that 
great  evils  are  to  be  arrested  in  their  small  beginnings.  Murder  is  to  be 
arrested  by  suppressing  anger,  lewdness  by  avoiding  lacivious  thoughts, 
and  hatred  and  strife  by  cultivating  love,  even  for  our  enemies,  and  by 
the  same  rule  drunkenness  must  be  avoided  by  abstaining  from  the  first 
step  in  the  road  to  ruin.  The  Bible  never  tolerates  the  moderate  use  of  evil 
influences.  It  is  wine  that  is  a  mocker,  and  not  any  particular  grade  of 
its  use ;  it  is  wine  that '  'biteth  like  a  serpent  and  stingeth  like  an  adder. " 

To  you,  my  sisters  and  brothers,  who  acknowledge  the  authority 
of  this  book,  allow  me  to  say  that  under  our  great  High  Priest  we  are 
a  royal  priesthood,  to  offer  up  spiritual  sacrifices,  acceptable  to  God  by 
Jesus  Christ.  Now,  if  the  priests  under  that  first  institution,  "which 
stood  only  in  meats  and  drinks  and  diverse  washings  and  carinal  or- 
dinances," were  forbidden  the  use  of  wine  when  they  ministered  at  the 
altar,  how  much  stronger  the  obligation  rests  on  this  spiritual  priest- 
hood who  are  consecrated  ' '  to  show  forth  the  praises  of  Him  who  has 
called  you  out  of  darkness  into  His  marvelous  light?" 


SERMON. 


By  Rev.  A.  Marine,  D.  D.,  Greencastle,  Ind. 


Text — St.  Johnvi.,  63:  The  words  that  I  speak  unto  you,  they  are 
spirit,  and  they  are  life. 

Subject:   The  Genius  of  Christianity  and  Modern  Infidelity. 

In  these  days  of  speculation  and  skepticism,  the  Christian  is  in 
great  need  of  courage.  Courage  to  go  back  of  all  expedients  and 
agencies,  of  creeds  and  altars,  and  all  denominational  history,  however 
glorious  it  may  be,  and  stand  before  God  with  only  His  word  for  our 
plea;  and  stand  before  men  with  only  His  word  for  our  argument. 

Donbtless  every  Christian  should  have  some  knowledge,  at  least, 
of  the  external  evidence  of  the  truth  of  Christianity.  It  may  be  nec- 
essary to  defend  the  authenticity,  *  credibility  and  inspiration  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures ;  but  it  is  the  sword  of  the  spirit,  which  is  the  word 
of  God — a  two-edged  sword — that  cometh  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  One 
who  stands  amid  the  seven  golden  candlesticks,  even  the  Son  of  Man, 
with  which  He  smiteth  the  nations;  I  say  that  it  is  with  the  sword  itself 
that  we  are  to  conquer  the  world  for  Christ. 

Solomon  says:    ^'He  that  winneth  souls  is  wise." 

Victor  Hugo  says.  ''There  is  one  thing  grander  than  the  sea,  it 
is  the  sky;  and  there  is  one  thing  grander  than  the  sky,  it  is  the 
human  soul." 

Daniel  says:  "And  they  that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  bright- 
ness of  the  firmament,  and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteousness  as  the 
stars  forever." 

St.  James  says:  "The  wisdom  that  is  from  above  is  first  pure, 
then  peaceable,  gentle,  and  easy  to  be  entreated ;  full  of  mercy  and 
good  fruits;  without  partiality  and  without  hypocracy." 

This  is  the  wisdom  with  which  we  are  to  win  souls  and  turn  many 
to  righteousness.  It  ia  not  by  philosophy,  nor  poetry,  nor  oratory, 
that  we  are  to  lead  men  from  darkness  to  light,  but  by  manifestations 
of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  to  every  man's  conscience  in  the  sight  of 


l82 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


God.  ''All  Scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God,  and  is  profit- 
able for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  for  instruction  in  righteous- 
ness, that  the  man  of  God  may  be  perfect,  thoroughly  furnished  unto  , 
all  good  works."  "Faith  cometh  by  hearing,  and  hearing  by  the 
word  of  God ;  therefore  preach  the  word.  For  in  so  doing  thou  shalt 
save  thy  self  and  them  that  hear  thee." 

The  ordinary  editions  of  the  Bible  contain  over  twelve  hundred 
pages.  The  variety  of  its  contents  is  astonishing.  There  is  scarcely 
a  branch  of  human  knowledge  upon  which  it  does  not  shed  some  light. 
In  one  single  book  of  forty-two  chapters,  we  can  obtain  knowledge  of 
astronomy,  geography,  cosmology,  mining  operations,  precious  stones, 
coining,  writing,  hunting,  farming,  music,  art,  war,  modes  of  travel  and 
zoology.  But  there  is  a  crimson  thread  running  through  the  Bible, 
beginning  with  Genesis,  running  through  Leviticus,  Numbers,  the 
Songs  of  David,  the  Proverbs  of  Solomon,  the  utterances  of  the  pro- 
phets, clear  through  the  Apocalypse ;  and  that  crimson  thread  is  the 
atonement.  This  is  the  central  truth  of  revelation;  the  sun  of  the 
system  around  which  all  other  truths  revolve,  and  by  which  all  other 
truths  are  held  in  their  orbits.  One  of  the  old  masters  painted  a  pic- 
ture called  the  Nativity ;  every  thing  in  that  picture  shines  in  a  light 
that  comes  from  a  babe,  the  infant  Christ  in  the  center. 

It  is  Christ  that  makes  all  the  pages  of  God's  word  luminous.  It 
is  Christ  that  gives  the  undenied  luster  to  the  history,  biography, 
poetry,  and  precepts  of  the  Bible.  The  Bible  is  not  merely  a  book,  it 
is  a  spirit — the  outward  volume  is  only  an  embodiment,  an  incarana- 
tion — itself  is  thought,  spirit,  life.  If  you  would  have  a  just  concep- 
tion of  the  Bible,  think  not  of  a  book,  or  cords  of  books,  distributed 
among  the  people  and  read — but  think  of  faith  in  one  God  our  Father, 
in  Jesus  Christ  our  Savior;  in  the  Holy  Ghost  our  Sanctifier  ;  in  love 
to  God  and  man;  in  immortality — these  all  come  from  the  Bible,  they 
are  the  Bible.  "The  words  that  I  speak  they  are  spirit,  and  they  are 
Hfe."  These  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  recorded  by  St.  John, 
set  forth  supremacy  of  the  spirit  over  matter,  of  life  over  the  forms 
of  life. 

THE  GENIUS  OF  GHRISTIANITY. 

Christianity  is  a  life,  a  power  like  that  which  comes  out  of  the 
sun  down  into  the  buds  of  the  orchards,  and  by  agency  of  dew  and 
light  sweetens  the  spring  promises  into  autumnal  fruitfulness.  It  is 
not  a  religion  of  things  merely  as  temples,  altars,  shrines  and  books,  nor 
of  words  only,  but  it  is  affirmatively,  positively  and  distinctly  a  hfe — a 
divinely  produced  life  of  the  soul  sustained  and  expanded  by  the 


ACTON  LECTURES.  1^3 

in-dwelling  spirit  of  Christ.  "Therefore  if  any  man  be  in  Christ  Jesus 
he  is  a  new  creature,  old  things  are  passed  away,  behold  all  thinge  are 
become  new."  If  we  are  to  interpret  Christianity  by  its  own  docu- 
ments, it  aims  higher  than  a  reformation  of  manners  and  offers  itself 
as  the  power  of  a  life  altogether  new.  You  will  observe  that  the 
gospel  does  not  say  a  word  about  art  or  commerce,  and  with  the  ex- 
ception of  requiring  obedience,  not  a  word  about  government,  but  it 
does  call  your  attention  to  men  of  culture  and  correct  lives,  as  Phillip, 
Nicodemus  and  the  young  ruler,  who  are  yearning  for  something  more, 
and  these  men  are  not  sent  back  to  their  fortunes,  their  schools,  or 
thrones  of  earthly  power,  but  they  are  directed  to  the  Holy  Ghost. 
They  are  told  that  "That  which  is  born  of  the  flesh  is  flesh,  and  that 
which  is  born  of  the  spirit  is  spirit."  Christ  does  not  stand  up  before 
these  men  and  pronounce  a  fulsome  eulogy  on  manhood.  He  does 
not  simply,  as  a  moral  instructor,  say,  gentlemen,  I  have  taught  you  the 
truth,  go  now  and  be  men.  But  He  says :  "Ye  can  do  nothing  without 
me."  "As  the  branch  can  not  bear  fruit  of  itself  except  it  abide  in 
the  vine,  no  more  can  ye  except  ye  abide  in  me."  By  him  alone  we 
have  access  to  God.  "Verily,  verily  I  say  unto  you.  He  that  en- 
tereth  not  by  the  door  into  the  sheepfold,  but  climbeth  up  some  other 
way  the  same  is  a  thief  and  a  robber."  "I  am  the  door,  by  me  if 
any  man  enter  in  he  shaU  be  saved.  And  shall  go  in  and  out  and  find 
pasture."  By  Him  alone  we  have  fellowship  with  God  the  Father. 
"If  a  man  love  me,  he  will  keep  my  commandments,  and  my  Father 
will  love  him,  and  we  will  come  unto  him  and  make  our  abode  with 
him. "  ' '  Truly  our  fellowship  is  with  the  Father  and  with  His  Son  Jesus 
Christ."  There  is  no  attainment  of  the  human  soul  objectively  above 
or  beyond  this  fellowship  with  God. 

The  Apostle  Paul  sets  up  an  ideal  entirely  beyond  moral  perform- 
ances, and  in  its  grasp  and  clearness  exceeds  the  proudest  generaliza- 
tion of  the  scientific  world.  It  is  brief,  simple,  grand  and  satisfactory. 
It  is  this :  ' '  The  first  Adam  was  made  a  living  soul,  the  last  Adam 
(which  is  Christ)  was  made  a  quickening  spirit,"  or  as  the  new  version 
has  it,  "a  life  giving  spirit."  The  first  man  historically  and  the  second 
man  historically  stand  over  against  each  other;  in  like  manner  the 
natural  man  stands  over  against  the  spiritual  man ;  the  natural  man's 
genealogy  begins  in  Adam,  the  spiritual  man's  genealogy  begins  in 
Christ.  Paul  does  not  intimate  that  Adam  was  an  extrordinary  being, 
or  that  he  had  any  other  relations  to  man  than  that  of  a  progenitor. 
All  that  he  has  to  say  about  Adam  is  this :  that  out  of  his  loins  came  a 
race  of  natural  men — of  sinful  men.  Christ,  on  the  other  hand,  is  an 
extraordinary  person.    He  is  the  God-man.    Out  of  His  loins  comes 


t84^  ACTON  LECTUItES* 

a  new  generation ;  a  regeneration  of  spiritual  men ;  a  chosen  genei'a- 
tion;  a  peculiar  people.  Every  man  comes  into  life  on  the  plan  of 
Adam — a  natural  man — born  as  a  kid  is  born,  and  by  natural  law 
acquires  bodily  strength  and  intellectual  power.  But  this  man,^body 
and  brain,  supplied  by  nature  alone,  is  insufficient  even  for  himself. 
By  his  own  wisdom  he  does  not  know  God.  This  man's  wisdom,  be  it 
the  wisdom  of  Athens,  only  reveals  his  bondage ;  it  is  simply  an  awak- 
ening power,  a  prophecy  of  something  which  he  needs  and  has  not. 
Christ  alone  supples  this  need  by  bringing  him  into  new  relations,  and 
by  giving  to  him  a  new  birth ;  so  that  while  the  natural  man,  with  all  his 
wisdom,  still  cries  out  with  PhiUip,  "Show  us  the  Father,"  the  very 
first  cry  of  this  new  born  babe  in  Christ  is  "Abba,  Father." 

The  world  is  agitated,  as  perhaps  never  before,  by  questions  relat- 
ing to  the  origin  of  life  and  the  laws  of  development.  The  generaliza- 
tions of  scientific  men  have  caught  the  ear  of  the  multitude,  and  on 
the  one  hand  have  emboldened  a  few  men  of  great  merit,  and  many 
men  of  small  merit,  to  array  themselves  against  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  have  provoked  some  honest  believers  to  a 
weak  and  unwise  animosity  against  science.  I  say  unwise,  for  if  relig- 
ion can  not  prove  itself  to  be  true,  whatever  strides  knowledge  may 
make,  then  let  it  perish,  and  the  sooner  the  better  for  "mankind.  But 
he  who  fears  any  calamity  to  our  faith,  fears  it  out  of  'a  weak  heart.  If 
Jesus  Christ  were  a  reformer  his  name  might  perish;  if  He  were  only  a 
moralist  He  might  stand,  after  awhile,  where  Confucius  now  stands. 
But  He  is  a  life-giver;  He  "came  that  we  might  have  life,  and  have 
it  more  abundantly."  You  can  reason  down  opinions,  but  you  can 
not  quench  a  life-giver ;  you  may  persecute  a  Christian,  confiscate  his 
property,  trample  on  his  rights  and  burn  his  body,  but  his  life  is  hid 
with  Christ  in  God,  and  you  can  not  touch  it. 

There  is  to-day,  everywhere,  apparently  the  most  subtle,  elaborate, 
potent  and  terriffc  assaults  ever  made  on  the  Christian  system.  In  it 
are  represented  alike  the  destructive  criticism  of  Strauss,  the  mythic 
idealism  of  Renan,  the  illusive  generalizations  of  Spencer  and  Buckle, 
the  positive  philosophy  of  Compte,  the  scientific  genius  of  Tyndall, 
the  protoplasmic  hypothesis  of  Huxley,  the  speculations  of  Darwin,  the 
materialism  of  Draper  and  Youmans,  the  comparative  theologies  of 
Gould  and  Clark,  the  transcendentalism  of  Carlyle  and  Emerson. 
Various,  indeed,  in  the  specific  fields  in  which  they  are  operating,  and 
the  instruments  they  may  employ;  and  to  the  casual  view  very  sHghtly 
allied  in  aim  or  tendency  and  yet  truly  one  in  essence,  and  capable  of 
being  classified  amid  all  varieties  under  the  one  significant  phase 


ACTON  LECTURES. 


i8s 


MODERN  INFIDELITY. 

The  historic  Genesis  of  "Modern  IndfideHty"  is  worthy  of  study. 
It  began  to  be,  with  old  EngUsh  Deism,  extending  from  1640  to  1780, 
from  Lord  Hurburt,  of  Chesbury,  down  to  Bolingbrooke  and  Hume, 
which  rejected  the  Bible  as  a  supernaturnal  revelation,  but  still  clung 
to  the  ethical  conceptions  of  a  personal  diety — a  life  of  duty,  and  a 
true  immortality.  It  originated  also  in  part  in  the  succeeding  materi- 
alism of  France,  extending  from  1740  to  1800,  from  Voltaire  down  to 
Rousseau,  which,  rejecting  the  Bible,  questioned  and  rejected  succes- 
sively each  of  its  ethical  conceptions,  having  for  mankind  nothing  but 
nature  and  her  laws,  and  a  blind  fate  as  the  basis  of  all  religion.  It 
has  sprang  also  in  part  from  German  rationalism,  which  not  only  as- 
sailed the  authenticity  and  authority  of  the  Bible,  but  substituted  for 
it  an  illusive  authority  of  reason,  but  which  at  length  questioned 
the  authority  of  reason  itself,  and  in  its  madness  tore  away  the  foun- 
dations of  all  objective  knowledge  or  belief.  What  I  have  termed 
modern  infidelity  as  it  now  appears  in  such  various  forms,  and  is  now 
.  assaulting  the.  citadel  of  Christianity,  is  the  direct  out-growth  of  these 
three  antecedent  types  of  unbeHef,  English  deism,  French  material- 
ism and  German  rationalism.  It  inherits  their  strength,  their  argu- 
ments, their  methods,  and  especially  their  destructive  disposition.  It 
is  in  a  word  the  matured,  intensified,  organized  spirit  of  opposition  to 
all  spiritual  religion.  The  central  aim  of  modern  infidelity  is  to  in- 
validate, and  throw  aside  as  something  incapable  of  demonstration  the 
cardinal  doctrine  of  the  supernatural.  It  mforms  us  that  the  Bible  is 
of  human  origin,  not  free  from  error,  and  false  in  its  tenfold  claim  of 
prophecy  and  miracle.  Jesus  Christ  was  a  man — only  a  man,  in  some 
respects  remarkably  endowed,  and  worthy  of  a  place  among  the  emi- 
nent teachers  of  mankind.  Regeneration  and  a  life  of  faith,  are  ex- 
periences originating  in  the  human  heart  alone,  and  in  no  sense  the 
product  of  a  Divine  Spirit  working  in  and  upon  our  moral  nature. 
Prayer  can  have  no  objective  efficacy  in  the  way  of  calling  to  our 
aid  Divine  forces  or  influence.  Religion  is  a  sentiment,  having  for  its 
basis  our  religious  instincts.  As  for  God,  the  soul  and  eternal  life, 
are  among  the  thmgs  which  can  not  be  proved — the  things  which  science 
is  unable  to  verify,  and  which  we  must  hold,  if  at  all,  as  conjectures — 
hopes,  ideals,  rather  than  established  verities.  In  a  word  this  Modern 
Infidelity  everywhere  questions,  doubts,  criticises,  assails  the  super- 
natural, and  is  steadily  seeking  to  loosen  the  strong  hold  of  the  super- 
natural on  the  popular  belief,  or  to  sweep  it  away  forever  as  something 
unworthy  of  philosophic  minds,  and  of  a  scientific  age. 

The  tendencies  of  this  comprehensive,  seductive,  potent  type  of  unbe- 
lief are  easily  traced,  for  they  are  already  seen,  not  simply  in  the  fields  of 


AUG  3  0  iS^-* 

1 86  ACTON   LECTURES.  ^       »  impIC 

^^^mvlHSity  or  lamois 

speculative  thought,  but  quite  as  obviously  in  their  effect  on  the  popu- 
lar mind  and  life.  It  displays  itself  in  our  popular  science.  It  is  ap- 
parent in  much  of  our. current  literature.  It  is  diffused  like  a  subtle  odor 
through  a  large  proportion  of  our  prevalent  philosophy.  Perhaps  its 
worst  influences  are  seen  in  the  stimulus  it  gives  to  the  materialistic 
tendencies  of  the  times— to  the  boundless  faith  which  multitudes  are 
cherishing  in  a  material  civilization.  To  the  strong  passion  of  the 
human  heart  for  wealth,  display,  splendor  and  power.  In  this  form  it 
even  penetrates  our  religious  life,  inclining  to  rest  too  much  on 
the  human,  and  too  little  on  the  Divine  sources  of  activity  and 
growth.  Leading  us  to  look  to  the  church  as  a  grand  material  organ- 
ism— a  central  and  dominant  force  in  modern  society — ^rather  than  to 
rest  on  an  invisible  Holy  Ghost,  and  on  the  infinite  resources  of  a  liv- 
ing, reigning,  omnipotent  Christ.  And  finally,  the  insolent  demand  of 
this  foe  of  Christianity  is  heard  in  the  defiant  threat  of  the  Communist. 
Its  cry  for  freedom  is  heard  in  the  carnival  of  Sabbath  desecration.  Its 
devotions  are  paid  at  the  shrines  of  Bacchus  and  Gambrinus.  It  is  a 
covenant  with  death,  and  an  agreement  with  hell.  And  now  we  may 
ask  in  conclusion :  What  is  to  be  the  result  of  this  prolonged  and 
heroic  struggle  of  the  Christian  religion  with  this  gigantic  and  formid- 
able foe  of  modern  times?  We  answer  by  the  authority  of  God's  word 
and  in  the  light  of  all  history :  The  survival  and  iiltijiiate  triumph  of 
Christianity. 

It  is  not  because  Christianity  lies  at  the  foundation  of  the  best  civiliza- 
tions that  it  is  to  abide  throughout  all  generations,  but  because  it  has  hold 
of  the  highest  God,  and  satisfies  the  deepest  want  of  man.  It  saves 
from  the  guilt  and  the  pollution  of  sin.  Again,  Christianity,  unlike  all 
false  religions,  possesses  the  power  of  revival.  The  paganism  of  the 
ancient  world,  against  which  the  prophets  and  apostles  fought,  is  dead 
and  nothing  can  revive  it.  The  paganism  of  our  Germanic  and  Scan- 
dinavian ancestors  is  also  dead  and  beyond  the  hope  of  a  resurrection. 
And  so  of  modern  paganism,  when  once  it  begins  to  decline  nothing 
can  stop  it.  But  Christianity  has  eternal  life  as  one  of  its  elements, 
and  therefore  possesses  the  power,  when  apparently  dead  or  dying,  to 
live  again.  In  this  respect  it  is  like  nature,  for  it  has  the  same  author ; 
it  never  grows  old,  it  never  dies,  but  ever  lives  and  blooms  m  perpetual 
youth  and  beauty.  The  great  and  astonishing  revival  element  in 
Christianity  is  a  fact  which  does  not  seem  to  be  taken  into  the  account 
by  its  enemies,  who  wish  for  its  extinction.  W^e  might  just  as  well 
look  for  the  death  of  nature,  for  it  will  come  sooner  than  the  death  of 
Christianity.  The  flower  will  fade  and  the  grass  wither,  "but  the 
Word  of  the  Lord  endureth  forever." 


1/ 


I 


Pressboard 
Pamphlet 
Binder 

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PAT  JAN.  21.  1908 


